Scars
by Black Friar
Summary: In the run up to Christmas, both Dick and Jason find themselves attempting to deal with the hurt of old wounds, unaware of a new threat lurking in the shadows. Sequel to Volatile.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This story is the sequel to Volatile. Sorry I'm only getting this up now, its a Christmas story and was supposed to be posted before Christmas, but here's hoping it'll spread a little Christmas cheer in dreary January! ;) Happy New Year to you all and hope you had a wonderful Christmas. :)

oOo

"Unless we make Christmas an occasion to share our blessings, all the snow in Alaska won't make it 'white'." Bing Crosby.

oOo

Jason leaned against a pillar, his arms crossed and a watchful expression on his face while his eyes swept the grand ballroom of The Gotham Regency Hotel where the wealthiest of Gotham society were gathered.

It was The Wayne Foundation's annual charity auction and according to Dick, this year was generating quite a bit of interest as there were several items of considerable value. Bruce had managed to convince several wealthy collectors and investors to donate valuable items to the auction, as well as contributing several items from his own personal art and antique collection. As a result, he had needed to organise a heavy security presence at the hotel where the auction was being held, meaning Jason had also been drafted in to help. So far he had spent the last two hours being bored stupid by meaningless small talk and empty society gossip.

_This is the last time I get talked into crap like this._

He caught sight of Dick over by the Christmas tree – where two middle-aged women had cornered him and were busy cooing over him – and grinned. However boring it was for Jason to be coerced into this, it was fifty times worse for Dick. The youngest person there by at least ten years, Dick in his tuxedo was proving to be an irresistible attraction for the older ladies. Ever since the auction pre-party had started, women had been flocking to him; ruffling his hair and telling him how adorable he looked in his tux. Dick took it all with polite – albeit slightly embarrassed – good grace, but even from across the room, Jason could see that it was driving him nuts.

He chuckled. _Give it a few years, Kid, and those good looks of yours will bring all the right sort of female attention._

His head swivelled again and he caught sight of Bruce on the other side of the room, complete with requisite brain-dead bimbo clinging to his arm while he chatted with some guy who looked like he was wearing a diaper on his head and another man who looked like he had a stick up his ass. Bruce was smiling and playing the role of charming host to perfection, but Jason was willing to bet that he was enjoying this charade even less than him – although apparently a lot more than Dick. He raised an amused eyebrow as he clocked two more ladies joining the hen party currently clucking around the boy.

_Entertaining as this is, I really should rescue him_, Jason thought, snorting with laughter as one of the older ladies actually pinched Dick's cheek. _He'll probably flood my bathroom or something if I don't._

Pranking was something of a Dick speciality when he was pissed about something.

Uncrossing his arms, Jason strode over to where the women were clustered around the now red-faced teenager. "Sorry, ladies, I need to borrow Dick for a moment," he announced loudly, placing one hand on the boy's shoulder.

One of them frowned while the others looked startled at the blunt interruption; Jason didn't possess Dick's easy charm or Bruce's polished manners, and he inevitably rubbed society ladies like this the wrong way. They were just too polite to show it.

"Of course. Have a lovely evening, Richard."

"Tell Bruce he's done a wonderful job this year."

"You take care now, Richard."

"Charming child."

The conversation followed them as Jason led Dick away, one hand still on his shoulder. "About time," Dick muttered, his face still red. "I thought you'd never get your butt in gear! Aren't you supposed to protect me from stuff like this?"

Jason chortled. "What's the matter? Not liking all that attention from the ladies?"

"Jay, they pinched my cheek! Do I look five to you?!"

Jason pretended to study him as they stopped at the edge of the dance floor. "Definitely not five – maybe ten?"

"Dude, shut it!" Dick groused, punching him lightly in the arm. "Where's Bruce?"

"Over there talking to some guy with an oversized diaper on his head."

"That's the Sultan of Oman," said Dick, squinting.

"How do you know– never mind, forget I asked," he added as Dick opened his mouth to respond.

The boy grinned.

"Well hello, Handsome," a seductive voice to Jason's right purred suddenly and he turned to see an extremely beautiful blonde woman smiling at him. He vaguely recognised her as a bartender from a bar some of the Wayne security team occasionally visited; Lori something. They'd flirted a little but nothing had ever happened between them.

He raised an eyebrow as he realised that he was currently seeing a lot more of her than usual. Her dress was some type of slinky floor-length purple number, clinging to her every curve and showcasing her rather impressive figure while the low-cut top revealed far more of her breasts than was usual for events like these. She looked, Jason realised, like a flesh and blood version of Jessica Rabbit; a very hot, blonde Jessica Rabbit.

He smirked. "What are you doing here?"

"Talking to you," she flirted, leaning closer. "Everyone else at this party is _so_ boring."

"Then what brings you here?" He was curious about that; what was she doing at a ticket-only event that probably cost more than her entire week's wages?

"I have a date. He's around here somewhere." She gestured with her hand around the room before turning back to Jason and smiling slowly, peering up at him as a curtain of blond hair fell gently against the side of her face.

He suspected that was a well-practiced look, but it didn't lessen its effect on him. Real women weren't supposed to look like this.

A titter to his left drew his attention and he looked down to see Dick smirking up at him. Jason blinked. He'd forgotten he was there for a moment.

It would appear that Lori hadn't noticed him either until he snickered, because she now swooped down on him, ruffling his hair. "Aren't you the real little heart-breaker?" she purred, leaning in close. "How old are you, Hon?"

Jason frowned. There was something very different in her tone to the clucking of the hens from a few moments ago.

Dick flushed and pulled back slightly from the heaving cleavage. "Thirteen."

"Thirteen, huh? Too bad you're so young, Sugar, you're awfully good looking."

Jason growled, his attraction towards her vanishing at once. Seizing the wrist of her hand that was ruffling the boy's hair, he pulled it upwards and forced her back from Dick. "Shouldn't you go find your date?" he suggested, his eyes hard.

She looked amused, tugging her wrist from his hand. "If you say so. See you around, Handsome." She blew him a kiss as she sashayed away, men openly gawking after her.

"_What_ was that?" Dick asked, mouth open slightly.

"Trouble," replied Jason shortly. He did _not_ like that crap she had just pulled with Dick.

"You didn't seem to mind," Dick prodded slyly.

Jason grinned at him somewhat sheepishly. "Kid, when you're older, you'll understand better about women like that."

Dick rolled his eyes. "You sound like Wally." He paused, then grinned. "Man, I wish Wally was here – it'd be hilarious to watch him hit on her!"

Jason snorted. "She'd eat him for breakfast."

Dick chuckled just as a voice barked, "Todd!"

They turned to find Thomas Lee, head of security for Wayne Enterprises behind them. A retired military general, Lee was a stickler for doing things by the book which sometimes caused him to clash with Jason. Right now, he was glaring at the younger man with irritation etched on his face. "This isn't a social club!" he snapped. "You're here to work, not chat up women!"

Jason raised an eyebrow. He and Lee may not see eye to eye, but they usually maintained a grudging respect for one another and this snappish behaviour wasn't like the normally stoic military man. "Just checking up on Dick, Mr. Lee."

The man's gaze fell on the teenager and his expression softened slightly. "Dick! I didn't see you there, son. How've you been?"

Jason couldn't help but roll his eyes. It amused him no end that just about everyone at Wayne Enterprises had a soft spot for Dick.

"Fine, thank you, Mr. Lee," Dick replied, smiling up at him.

"Good, good," said the man, absently patting Dick on the head. "Todd, we're getting ready to move into the auction room. I want you stationed at the main door to the ballroom with Justin; he's already there."

Jason groaned inwardly as the General marched away. Each item for auction had been displayed in the grand ballroom before the bidding began in order to generate interest in the auction. Moving the lots between the two rooms was going to be the most complicated part of the security detail tonight, but that wasn't what bothered him, – Jason would be only too happy to see a little action other than watching Gotham High Society simper at one another – he would just rather do this without Justin Lee.

Sighing, he glanced at Dick. "Sorry, Kid, duty calls. You're on your own now."

"Gee, thanks," Dick griped, catching sight of two elderly ladies heading his way.

Jason grinned at him before disappearing into the crowd and heading for the main door of the ballroom. His smile faded as he spotted Justin standing by the door, a bored expression on his face.

Jason scowled. He really didn't like this guy; Justin had a _major_ chip on his shoulder and acted like the world owed him something. He was a recovering gambling addict and the only reason he had a job on the Wayne security team was because Thomas Lee was his father. The man had vouched for his son, who was apparently trying to get his life back on track, and begged Bruce to give him a trial period. Jason knew that he had only agreed to it for Lee's sake; the man had been his head of security for almost ten years and Bruce had a great deal of respect for him. But in the three weeks that Justin had been working for Wayne Enterprises, Jason had seen nothing but attitude from him.

"Hi," he greeted him casually, joining him at the door.

Justin flicked him a bored look. "Todd."

Oh yeah. This would be loads of fun. Jason didn't bother trying to engage the sullen man in further conversation; he hated small talk and he certainly wasn't going to engage in it with someone he didn't even like.

The two men stood in silence, watching as several security guards began to carry out the glass display cases one by one. The first display case held a large painted blue vase that Jason thought was one of the ugliest things he had ever seen, but probably cost more than his monthly salary. He watched them shuffle carefully down the hall to the auction room with it, then turned his attention to the doorway once more as another guard passed through with a second, smaller glass case. This one held a gold necklace that was dripping with precious stones and Jason didn't want to think about how much that thing was worth. Idly he wondered who had donated something of such value as his gaze followed it down the hall.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a small, dark head leaving the ballroom and turning in the direction of the hotel lobby. Immediately he whirled and grabbed Dick's shoulder. "And just where do you think you're going?"

Dick sighed and rolled his eyes. "The bathroom."

"There's one in the ballroom."

"Yeah, and Mrs. Elliot and half of the Gotham Flower Society are standing right outside it."

"So?"

"So, that's like walking right into the enemy camp! I do that and I'm a goner!" Dick threw up his hands dramatically.

Jason crossed his arms. "Nice try, Kid. Back into the ballroom."

The Gotham Regency was a huge hotel and there was another large function taking place there; Jason did not want Dick wandering around by himself. There had been an attempted kidnapping at his school the previous week and Jason was still on edge.

"But, Jason–"

"No buts. In." He jerked a thumb to emphasize his point.

Dick huffed irritably. "Fiiiiiiine. But this really sucks you know, I can't believe I'm giving up my Friday evening to do this!"

Jason chuckled. "Suck it up, Kid, we're all stuck here."

"Except you're not getting your cheeks pinched every five minutes!" Dick grumbled, stepping back into the room. "What's next, coochie coo?"

He disappeared back into the ballroom as Jason laughed. He couldn't blame Dick for being irritable. If he was thirteen and had just spent the last two hours being fussed over and mauled by a bunch of old women who kept telling him how cute he looked, he'd be breaking noses at this point.

Justin was staring after Dick with a scowl on his face. "Man, how do you stand it?"

"Stand what?" asked Jason, keeping his eyes peeled as three guards came through with what looked like a Japanese sword.

"Babysitting that brat. Talk about spoilt!"

Jason's head snapped around and he narrowed his eyes at Justin. "Dick is not spoilt."

Anyone with even an ounce of self-preservation would have heard the warning in Jason's voice, but Justin was clearly an idiot. He snorted. "Yeah right! 'I can't believe I'm giving up my Friday evening to do this,'" he intoned in a high-pitched voice, mimicking Dick. "What a spoilt little shit!"

Jason gritted his teeth. "He's thirteen and he's just spent the evening being fawned over by a bunch of hens. I'd like to see how you'd handle that if you were his age!"

"When I was his age, I wouldn't even have gotten near a fancy party like this!" Justin retorted, his eyes flicking over the oil painting now being carried out of the ballroom. "But I guess when you're lucky enough to be adopted by some rich schmuck, you can do whatever the hell you want."

Jason was dangerously close to hitting him, his attention no longer on the items being transported out of the ballroom. "You know why he was adopted, don't you? The kid watched his family die!"

"Turned out all right in the end though, didn't it?" Justin sneered. "Kid landed on his feet."

He was saved the agony of having his teeth smashed in by Jason's fist when the loud rat-a-tat of what sounded like a semi-automatic came from the ballroom.

"What the fuck was that?" Jason demanded while Justin froze.

A second rat-a-tat sounded and then the crowd started to scream. Jason didn't hesitate, he darted back into the ballroom.

He could hear Justin yelling after him. "Todd, get back here! We're not supposed to leave our posts!"

It was pandemonium in the ballroom. Several terrified party-goers were stampeding for the exits while screams and the sounds of shattering glass echoed behind them.

"Goddammit, MOVE!" Jason yelled, trying to get through the surging mass of bodies. Where the hell were Bruce and Dick?

Elbowing and shoving his way through the crowd, Jason could just make out three masked men by the French doors into the ballroom. He had been right about the gunshots, they _were_ made by semi-automatics; two of the men had some heavy firepower and were shooting intermittently at the crowd and towards the ceiling, while the third was breaking into the glass display cases and loading the contents into a brown sack. There was a security guard on the floor, blood pooling beneath him. He wasn't moving.

"DICK! BRUCE!" Jason bellowed, trying to make himself heard over the chaos. His heart was beating hard against his chest; they were both here as civilians tonight, neither one of them had any protection.

As the panicking and charging crowd pushed against him, Jason lost his footing and almost went under the stampeding horde until a hand grabbed him, preventing him from being crushed underfoot. He looked up and saw a dark-haired man holding tight to his arm, but never got the chance to thank him as the crowd surged forward again and the man's hand was ripped from his arm before he vanished into the throng. Jason could see him being jostled towards the door.

Trying desperately to get through the mob, Jason felt a horrible tug of panic as he realised that if Dick was in this crush somewhere, he was too small to be seen and would be trampled underfoot in a second. "DICK!" he yelled again.

Finally, he managed to get to the back of the rampaging crowd, pushing and shoving to break free of them. As he squeezed out between two men, he got his first clear view of the ballroom.

There were actually five masked men; aside from the three over by the windows, there were two others with guns who were herding several people towards the stage. A few individuals had taken cover from the gunfire behind the large pillars at each corner of the dance floor while others were cowering behind tables that had been knocked over.

Jason inhaled sharply when he caught sight of Dick at the other end of the room, trying to coax two elderly ladies into hiding behind the canapés' table. He was wide open if the men decided to fire in that direction.

Immediately, Jason took off in a run towards him, ducking as he heard gunfire snicker in his direction, followed by the thwack of a bullet embedding itself in the wall somewhere to his left. Blood pounded in his head as he increased his speed; he didn't dare yell Dick's name again in case the men fired at the boy. A bullet whistled past his ear, uncomfortably close.

"_Get under the damn table_!" he yelled at the women as he reached them, slamming into Dick and drawing a startled yelp from the boy before tucking and rolling, dragging them both behind another table. Releasing Dick, he yanked off the table cloth and knocked the table to its side, giving them a better shelter. Bullets thudded into the wood, sending splinters skittering over them.

"Jason, what the hell?!" Dick hissed, glancing back at where the two elderly women were now huddled behind the long table where they had zero protection from any gunfire. "They're civilians!"

"And so are you right now!" Jason retorted. He was well aware of Bruce's 'civilians first' policy, but if it came down to saving two women who looked to be at least seventy or thirteen-year-old Dick, Dick would win every time.

"We can't leave them like that!" Dick snapped back, shifting into a sprinting position.

Jason yanked on the back of his jacket and forced him to sit. "Stay. Put!" he growled. "I'll do it!"

Darting out once more, Jason raced over to where the two women were cowering and upended the table, sending assorted crudités all over the floor. He was forced to drop behind the table with them as two bullets embedded themselves in the wall overhead.

"What's going on?" asked one of the women in a terrified whisper.

"Lady, I wish I knew!" Jason replied, trying to peer around the side of the table without getting his head blown off. He really wished he had his gun with him but Bruce had a firm 'no guns' policy which meant his security team carried tasers and batons. Jason scowled. Fat lot of good they were right now against a couple of semi-automatics.

He glanced at the table Dick was crouched behind and was alarmed to see the boy trying to look over the top. "Dick! Head down!" he barked.

Dick complied, glancing back towards him. "Where's Bruce?"

There was a slight lull in the shooting and Jason used that as an opportunity to sprint back to him. "I don't know," he replied grimly. He had spied a few bodies splayed throughout the ballroom and at least two of them were wearing a tux. "But I'm sure he'll be fine, this is Bruce we're talking about."

"Exactly, it's _Bruce_ we're talking about!" Dick said urgently, fear darkening his eyes. "Jason, what's happening?"

"A robbery, I think," Jason replied, peering around the table. The shooting had stopped and most of the civilians had managed to escape through the various exits in the massive ballroom, but the gunmen still had seven or eight people corralled by the stage, and there were several more huddled behind tables and pillars throughout the room.

Jason scowled. The room was too big, too bright and too open to make a move without the gunmen seeing him. If they opened fire again, an innocent civilian could be hurt, not to mention that Dick would probably get involved the second he left him alone behind the table. He was just considering their options when the lights went out in the ballroom.

Screams erupted in the darkness around them, followed by the sounds of glass breaking and more gunshots. Then something whistled through the air and the gunfire ceased. Over the panicked cries, he could hear the unmistakeable sounds of a struggle and smiled to himself. It sounded like Batman had arrived.

He had to physically restrain Dick during the course of the struggle or the fleet-footed little ninja would have disappeared into the darkness. He kept a tight hold on the boy until the lights came back on almost seven minutes later, at which point Jason chanced looking up.

Police were cautiously entering the ballroom, their weapons drawn. At the far end of the room, Jason could just discern four of the gunmen trussed up like Christmas turkeys. There was no sign of the fifth.

Slowly, Dick and Jason got to their feet and took stock of the aftermath. Food and broken glasses were scattered across the floor, while several tables and chairs had been knocked over. The walls were peppered with bullet holes and one of the French doors had been broken in. But the worst by far were the bodies sprawled at various points around the room. Jason counted them, his jaw tightening when he tallied seven. He wondered if they were all dead.

Paramedics were now entering the ballroom and hurrying towards the prone forms, while police officers escorted those who had been trapped with the gunmen from the room. An officer approached Jason and Dick.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Fine," Jason replied. "What happened? Where's the fifth gunman?"

"I'm afraid we don't have any information on what happened yet, Sir," the officer replied. His eyes fell on Dick and he frowned. "Dick Grayson?"

The boy nodded, his eyes scanning the room.

"Mr. Wayne is looking for you. He's in the front lobby."

"Okay, thanks." Dick looked relieved.

They made their way out of the ballroom and down the hall to the front lobby where shocked party-goers and staff were gathered, being questioned by police or attended to by paramedics.

"Dick! Jason!" Bruce's voice carried over the hum of conversation.

They both turned to where the billionaire stood over by the elevator with Mayor Hill and Commissioner Gordon. "Bruce!" Dick cried and darted over to him, Jason following quickly.

"Are you both alright?" Bruce asked in concern, putting an arm around Dick's shoulders as they joined him. "You're not hurt?"

Dick shook his head. "Jason knocked over a table that we could hide behind. What about you? Are you okay?"

Bruce's eyes were tight with anger. "I'm fine. I just wish I could say the same for the people in there."

"Does anyone know what happened?" Jason demanded. "Who were those guys?"

It was Commissioner Gordon who answered. "We're not sure of anything yet, but we think it was a robbery. We'll know more when we've had a chance to question the four men."

"So the fifth gunman did get away?" Jason's tone was sharp.

"It looks like it," the officer replied while Bruce pursed his lips. "And we're still not sure what happened to the other four."

"It was Batman," Dick spoke up. "We heard a fight after the lights went out."

"Maybe Batman is in pursuit of the fifth gunman and will contact you later?" Bruce suggested carefully.

"Maybe," said the Commissioner absently, his eyes scanning the lobby.

Detective Bullock joined them. "Hey, Commish, the press is outside and they're lookin' fer a statement. You wanna say something to them?"

"I'll make a statement," Mayor Hill put in, immediately starting to straighten his tie and smooth his hair.

"You might want to keep it short and simple, Mr. Mayor," Commissioner Gordon pointed out, "we still don't know what happened here."

"I know how to make a statement, Commissioner!" the man snapped, turning and heading for the front doors.

Commissioner Gordon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'd better go with him in case I need to do any damage control. Mr. Wayne, I'll speak with you later. Jason, Dick, I'll need to speak with both of you as well."

They nodded, watching the tired-looking officer and his detective follow Mayor Hill. As they disappeared through the front door, Bruce took out his cell phone.

"Who are you calling?" Jason asked.

"Alfred," Bruce replied, holding the phone to his ear. "He's on his– Alfred, the press have arrived at the hotel. Drive around back and we'll meet you there….Yes, I know. Thanks, Alfred."

"Why's Alfred on his way in?" Jason asked as Bruce disconnected the call.

"I called him," Bruce answered, looking grim. "I'm sending Dick home."

"What! Why?" Dick looked indignant.

"Because you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow and after tonight's events, I won't be home until very late – and I highly doubt that you'll be getting out of here any time soon either," he added to Jason.

Jason grimaced. Of course not.

"But what about my statement to Commissioner Gordon?" Dick demanded.

Jason could see he was irritated at being babied. Bruce's over-protectiveness had become somewhat stifling since the Joker had tortured him three months earlier and Dick was starting to rebel.

"I will bring you to the station tomorrow to give your statement," Bruce replied, frowning down at him. "There were almost six hundred people here for that auction, not to mention the other guests in the hotel; the police won't get to everyone tonight. Don't fight me on this, Dick," he added as the boy opened his mouth to argue, "not if you still want to go out tomorrow night."

Dick's mouth immediately snapped shut and he scowled.

His injuries at the hands of the Joker had taken nine weeks to fully heal, putting him out of commission as Robin. Bruce had then insisted he take a further three weeks to build up his strength before he donned the costume, but had finally agreed that Robin could hit the streets again the following night. Jason knew there was no way Dick would jeopardise that by arguing.

"Good," said Bruce before turning to Jason. "Thomas Lee wants to do a debriefing with the security team. He's gathering everyone in an upstairs meeting room."

Jason nodded. He would have expected nothing less from the General; the man was nothing if not thorough. "Guess I'll see you afterwards?" he asked Bruce, his tone casual.

Bruce gave him a quick look and then nodded.

For the last week, Batman and Red Hood had been working overtime to ensure the worst of the crazies were behind bars before Robin started back the following night. Bruce wasn't the only one being over-protective…Jason was just doing a better job of hiding it.

He grinned at Dick. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow night then."

"Yeah. Guess so– wait! What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Nothing, why?"

"Want to come tree shopping with me and Bruce?" Dick asked excitedly.

"Er…okay," said Jason, confused by Bruce frantically shaking his head behind Dick's back.

Dick beamed. "Cool! We'll pick you up at eleven, okay?"

"Sure thing, Kiddo. Catch you later, Bruce," said Jason, nodding at them before walking away. He was a little surprised by Bruce's headshake. The man wasn't a big fan of Christmas and Jason thought he would have preferred to have someone along to temper Dick's enthusiasm; the boy was a little over-zealous about the festive season.

It took several minutes, three shell-shocked hotel staff and two police officers before Jason was able to locate where Thomas Lee was debriefing the Wayne Enterprises security team. When he reached it, he could tell the debrief had started because Lee's deep voice was carrying down the hall.

Slipping quietly into the room, Jason stood at the back and glanced around. Three security guards were missing. _That's not a good sign_, he thought grimly and turned his attention to Thomas Lee who was spouting angrily from the top of the room.

"– you were given orders! If this had been an actual war zone then you'd probably be dead! What were you thinking?!"

Jason was surprised to learn that he was yelling at his own son, Justin, and Kevin West; a nice but somewhat naïve young guard.

"Hey! We weren't the only ones who left our posts!" Justin retorted angrily. "Golden Boy Todd disappeared as well! And he's not even here right now either!"

Although Jason was somewhat amused to hear himself being referred to as a golden boy, he was irritated by Justin's childish sniping. "Actually, he is," he spoke up, stepping forward just as several heads swivelled to look at him.

"Todd! Where were you?" Lee barked.

"Downstairs. When the shooting started, I ran into the ballroom because Dick had just gone back in there."

Lee nodded as though satisfied before turning once more to Justin and Kevin. "You two have no valid excuse for leaving your posts and make no mistake, there will be disciplinary action for this. West, you're an idiot who used his downstairs brain instead of his upstairs brain! And you!" he snarled at Justin. "You clearly didn't use any brain at all!"

Justin's brown eyes popped furiously. "I ran down to the other room to protect the auction items from robbery! How come Todd gets off just 'cause he ran in to protect some snot-nosed kid but the guy who tried to protect the real valuables gets punished?!"

"Real valuables?" Jason snarled, getting angry now; this was the second time tonight this asshole had a go at Dick. "Are you suggesting a bunch of antiques are more important than Dick?"

Justin glanced at him and rolled his eyes. "Christ, Todd, they were obviously there to rob shit, and it's not like the kid is worth anything!"

The whole room went still and a strangled sort of noise echoed up from Jason's throat. However, before he could rip Justin a new one, someone else spoke up.

"Are you really suggesting that Bruce Wayne would place a higher value on those antiques than the life of his son?" Thomas Lee asked in a dangerously quiet voice, glaring at his own son. "Because if you are, you're an even bigger fool than I thought and that's saying something."

Every person in the room averted their eyes as Justin flushed in anger and embarrassment. This had just gotten uncomfortably personal.

With a look of deepest disgust, Lee turned away from his son and faced the room once more. "So the security alarms for the gardens were dismantled because West was stupid enough to leave his post for some woman, allowing the gunmen access to the French doors into the ballroom. What else do we have?"

_So that's how they got in so smoothly!_ Jason thought, not bothering to marvel at how quickly the security team had pieced that information together; under Lee, they operated as an efficient, well-oiled machine.

"I was at the east door into the ballroom," called Ryan Jackson, one of the more experienced security guards and also ex-military. "I had a clear view of everything from the second they entered. Sir, they shot the security guards closest to the French doors without even assessing their surroundings…like they knew exactly where the men would be stationed."

Jason stiffened. Hooper's info suggested inside intel. "They attacked right when the lot items were being moved as well," he said, quickly putting two and two together. "The one point in the night when all the security for the event would be spread out…"

Thomas Lee narrowed his eyes. "Are you suggesting this was an inside job?"

Jason tightened his jaw. "Not suggesting, flat out telling you. They were too aware of our security precautions for it not to be."

Silence descended on the room as the men looked around at each other, wondering which one had sold them out.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you totally made my day since I'm rather nervous about this sequel. :) Also, I would like to say a big, massive thank you to my new beta, Haleykim, who is proving to be invaluable. Editing is what really slows me down when writing as I'm such a nit-picker and I'm always afraid I'm going to miss my own mistakes. So, Kim, you rock. Thank you. :)

Finally, there is some strong language in this chapter as the bad guys make an appearance and they are not nice people who do tend to swear a lot. Fair warnings on that peeps. :)

oOo

Jason stood bleary-eyed outside his apartment building, clinging to his take-away coffee while he waited for Bruce and Dick to arrive. It was after two before he had managed to get away from The Gotham Regency and after seven when he finished patrol. He was tired, cranky and most emphatically NOT in the mood for tree shopping, but he didn't want to disappoint Dick. Besides, tree shopping might be fun…despite what Bruce claimed to the contrary.

While on patrol the previous night, Jason had asked Batman about Bruce's headshake after Dick had asked him to come tree shopping. The only response had been a cryptic, "Trust me, you don't want to go tree shopping with Dick."

Jason was putting it down to Bruce's Scrooge-like mentality. Dick was one of the most fun people Jason had ever encountered; why wouldn't he want to go tree shopping with the boy?

He caught sight of Bruce's dark Porsche weaving its way through traffic and tossed the almost empty coffee cup in the trash before wriggling his fingers to coax some warmth back into them. It was freaking _cold_ and weather reports were predicting snow.

Jason would never admit it but he was actually hoping for snow. He'd never had a white Christmas before; it usually rained in his Gotham.

The car pulled up and Jason climbed into the back, rolling his eyes as a way-too-hyper Dick beamed back at him complete with Santa hat pulled down over his dark hair. "Dick, don't you think the hat might be overkill?"

"Nope. Tis the season. Want one?"

Jason snorted in response. There was no way in hell anyone was decking him out in Christmas paraphernalia; not unless they wanted to be doused in gasoline and set on fire.

"So, where are we going to get the tree?" he asked, as Bruce guided the car back into traffic. He was mildly curious about this as he'd never been tree shopping before. Back in his world, that job had always been carried out by Dick and Alfred. He and Bruce had never been all that interested in what Bruce termed 'the silly season'.

"There are a couple of really good tree farms outside Gotham," Dick answered. "They've got several acres of trees and they'll let you browse for as long as you like. You can even watch your tree being cut."

It sounded like a lot of unnecessary work to Jason. "Couldn't you just buy a tree from a lot here in Gotham?"

Dick looked horrified. "You don't buy your Christmas tree from a lot! Those trees could have been cut _ages_ ago!"

"So?"

Dick rolled his eyes. "Jay, it's only the eighteenth of December. The tree has to be fresh so it'll last into the New Year."

"Don't the trees from those lots usually last? I mean, it's not like they die."

"Yeah but they _wilt_," Dick said with an expression of distaste. "And Christmas trees look awful when they wilt."

"They all look the same to me, Dick."

"But they're not all the same!" he protested. "Christmas trees can be tall, thin, fat – not to mention the different types!"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "There are different types?" He regretted asking the second he saw the gleam in Dick's eyes. He had a horrible feeling he was about to get a crash course in the species of Christmas tree.

"Dozens! Balsam fir, Scotch pine, Leyland cypress– oh! And Douglas fir! They're my favourites because they smell the best…"

Jason settled back against his seat with a sigh and allowed Dick to educate him on the art of picking the perfect Christmas tree. Now he knew why Bruce was being so silent, _and_ why he had tried to warn him off going tree shopping with them today; Jason strongly suspected that tree shopping with Dick wouldn't be as fun as he had initially thought.

His suspicions were proven correct when, after several hours of traipsing around tree farms in the freezing cold, they still hadn't found a Christmas tree.

Actually, scratch that, they had found several. Jason had never seen so many damn Christmas trees in all his life! In fact, if he never saw one again, it would be too soon. And every one of them had been big, green and, as far as Jason could see, perfect.

But not according to Dick. The boy had found fault with every single tree that Jason or Bruce had pointed out; they were either too small, too thin, not green enough or they didn't smell right. Jason – for the first time ever – was ready to kill Dick.

_Why the hell didn't I wear a warmer jacket?_ he groused, wedging his hands deep into his pockets. "I can't believe you're letting him do this," he hissed to Bruce as Dick darted forward to examine another tree.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I did warn you."

Jason grumbled under his breath, he had no response to that. He shot Bruce a curious glance. "Why _are_ you letting him do this? You hate Christmas." He was surprised that Mr. Scrooge was willing to let Dick drag him around tree farms for hours without complaint.

"I don't hate Christmas," Bruce responded, watching Dick circle a large, dark fir. "I just don't enjoy it." He turned back to Jason and his expression was slightly sad. "Christmas is Dick's favourite holiday. It's also the time of year when he misses his parents the most. If finding the perfect tree makes him happy then I'm not going to object. He asks for so little as it is."

Jason's irritation with Dick lessened. "You've got a point."

They both returned their attention to the tree that Dick had been circling but the boy had disappeared. Jason felt a frisson of alarm. "Dick?" he called, stepping forward. There was no response and he exchanged a frown with Bruce. "DICK!" he yelled again.

The boy appeared suddenly between two trees. He was pink-cheeked with excitement. "I've found it! I've found the perfect tree! Bruce, Jason, you gotta come see!"

He turned and vanished into the trees again, leaving the two men to roll their eyes fondly at one another before following.

Pushing through the trees after Dick, they emerged into a slightly bigger clearing where the boy stood beside a large tree bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Bruce, look! Wha'd ya think? I think this is gonna be our best tree yet!"

Bruce smiled at him as they drew level. "It's a very nice tree, Dick. Good call."

The teenager beamed up at him before turning to Jason. "Jay, what do you think?"

Jason thought it looked identical to the thirty or so trees that Dick had already rejected, but he wasn't going to burst his bubble by telling him that. "Very nice, Kid. What type of tree is it?"

"A Douglas fir," said Dick excitedly, turning back to the tree again. "Smell it, Jason."

He complied, surprised by how good the tree actually did smell. "Nice. Will it smell like that all Christmas?"

"Yup!" Dick answered gleefully, gazing up at the tree.

"I'll go find someone to cut it for us." Bruce smiled, turning and following the trail back down towards the entrance to the farm.

Jason looked up at the tree and frowned. "How do we get this thing back to Wayne Manor? Somehow I doubt it will fit on the roof of the Porsche."

Dick chuckled. "The tree farm will deliver it –" he looked at his watch "– tomorrow. They don't usually deliver after three." He looked up guiltily at Jason. "Sorry, Jay. This probably wasn't the most fun way to spend your Saturday."

Jason smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. "Just so long as you're happy, Kid."

oOo

Justin Lee was deep in thought as he stepped into the dark, smoke-filled bar. Absently, he glanced around, rubbing his right temple; he'd had a headache ever since the attempted robbery at The Gotham Regency the night before. Talk about a total and utter fucking disaster.

He spied Lori flirting with a couple of customers over by the bar counter and scowled. Stalking over, he seized her arm and dragged her away without acknowledging the men. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed at her.

"My job," she retorted, pulling her arm from his grip. "These morons leave bigger tips when I flirt with them."

"Except you have a boyfriend!" he reminded her harshly, jealousy gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

She crossed her arms. "A boyfriend who had me make out with some junior security guard so a bunch of hoods could get past him!"

"That was different – you know I had no choice!"

She laughed and patted his cheek. "Relax, Sugar. I didn't mind. Anything for you, right?" she purred seductively and leaned closer.

Justin's mind went blank as Lori's perfume washed over him, then he moaned with pleasure when she nibbled on his ear. "Uh…you're coming over…after work tonight…right?"

She entwined her fingers in his hair. "That depends. What did you have in mind?"

"I–"

"Well, well, what do we have here?" a hard voice interrupted him.

He turned and his heart plunged when he saw Adam Thorne standing there. Thorne was a knee breaker and enforcer for Joe Minette – one of Gotham's biggest mob bosses. During their last encounter, he had broken three of Justin's fingers.

"Thorne…I…uh…what are you doing here?"

"Been following you, Lee. Minette wants us to have a little chat."

Thorne's eyes were hard and Justin's alarm grew when he spotted Jake Elliot and Snake Hooper lurking in the shadows behind him. They were Thorne's right hand men and every bit as sadistic and dangerous as he was.

Justin swallowed. "If this is about last night– "

"Of course it's about last night!" Thorne snarled. "What the fuck else would it be about?!"

Elliot and Hooper came forward and strong-armed both Lori and Justin into the nearest booth before sliding in alongside them, trapping them on the inside.

Thorne pulled over a chair from one of the tables and placed the back of it against their booth before straddling it. He fixed Justin with a dangerous smile. "Mr. Minette is very unhappy with you, Lee."

"But I did what he asked! I gave him the information!"

"Except you never mentioned anything about the Goddam Batman!" Thorne spat.

"How was I supposed to know he'd show?!" Justin asked desperately. He could now feel the barrel of Hooper's gun digging into his ribs.

"That was the whole point of last night's operation, Lee," Thorne reminded him. "You give us _all _the information on the security detail, plus the list of the most valuable items for auction and in return, Mr. Minette would write off your debt."

"But I kept my end of the deal! My debt should be clear!"

"We lost four men last night and we didn't even get a single item from the heist!" snapped Thorne. "Your debt is far from clear! In fact, I would say that it's even higher after what last night's fuck up cost us!"

"Please, Thorne! Tell Mr. Minette I'm sorry, I'll make it up to him! I swear!"

The three thugs laughed. It was a distinctly cold, unpleasant sound.

Thorne leaned forward, his trademark knife in his hands now. Justin couldn't take his eyes from the blade twisting on the table and marking the wood. "You owe Mr. Minette nearly four hundred thousand, and you haven't been able to pay even one dime of that for the last two months! Tell me, Lee, what makes you think he should take the word of a loser like you?"

"I…I…" Justin glanced around wildly, his heart pounding. He needed to come up with a plan. From somewhere on the periphery of his memory his father's sneering voice echoed suddenly; _Are you really suggesting that Bruce Wayne would place a higher value on those antiques than the life of his son? _

He started. The Wayne kid! Or whatever the hell his surname was. "I know a surefire way for Mr. Minette to get his money back – with interest!"

Thorne cocked an eyebrow, his lips curling in a sneer. "Oh really? Just like you knew how last night would be the perfect way to clear your debt to him?"

"This is different! It only involves one security guard!"

Thorne's jaw tightened. "I'm listening."

"Bruce Wayne has a kid – adopted or something – but if the kid were kidnapped, Wayne would pay any money to get him back and–"

Thorne snorted. "Wayne is the richest guy this side of the eastern seaboard. You don't think it hasn't crossed Minette's mind already to snatch that kid? It's not possible; Wayne keeps him too well protected. Face it, Lee, you're screwed. We should just kill you now and get it over with."

"But I know his bodyguard!" Justin cried desperately. "What if I could get him to hand the kid over to us?"

Thorne looked as though he were seriously considering that possibility when a tinkling laugh sounded. The men looked at Lori in surprise.

"What's so funny, Babe?" Elliot leered, pressing against her.

She gave him a disgusted look before turning to Justin. "Sugar, I love you, but you really are an idiot. You work with Jason Todd and you still think you can talk him into turning over his precious little charge to _you_?"

Justin stared at her. Why was she saying this? "Of course I can. We'd have to offer him some of the ransom to get him to agree, but Wayne would pay enough to keep everyone happy."

Lori shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" Thorne demanded, staring at her intently

She gave him her slow, lazy smile. "Because I can read men like a book, Honey and Jason Todd is not most men; he has no interest in money– "

"Then we find another way to get him on our side!" Justin interrupted, glaring at her. He had never seen this side to her before…why was she making things _harder_ for him?

She tilted her head, still smiling. "You won't, Sweetie-pie. Todd is a man who values very few things, but he cares for that kid. He'll destroy anyone who tries to hurt him." Her beautiful face twisted in a scowl. "I should know; he wanted to break my wrist just for touching the kid!"

"So getting him on our side isn't an option," Thorne mused. He was looking at Lori with interest. "Why would you want to show us how useless your boyfriend is?"

"Just because he won't be able to get Todd on your side doesn't make him useless," she pointed out. "There are other ways he can get you the kid."

They were all looking at her with interest now. "Why don't you explain it to us, Beautiful?" Elliot leered again.

She ignored him, keeping her eyes fixed on Thorne. "I know Todd from around; he comes here with the Wayne Security team sometimes. But I've also seen him at Inside Scoop over on third."

"Todd doesn't exactly strike me as the ice-cream type," Justin muttered. He wasn't sure he liked this new side to his girlfriend.

She stretched her arms upward like a cat. "No, I don't suppose he is. But I bet that little doll he babysits just _loves_ it."

"Have you seen the kid there with him?" Thorne demanded sharply.

She shrugged. "From time to time. I'm sure Justin could find out when they're next going to be there and give you the heads up. Wouldn't be hard to take Todd by surprise and snatch the kid at an ice-cream parlour now would it?"

"No," said Thorne, giving a slow smile. "It wouldn't."

oOo

Dick stared at the Robin costume in his hands while his heart thudded in his chest. It was the first time since Joker had tortured him three months ago that he was donning the uniform and he was surprised to discover that he felt slightly sick.

Swallowing hard, he caressed the yellow R of his costume. Ever since last week when Bruce had finally agreed that Robin could get back out on the streets, he had been looking forward to this. He missed being Robin. The problem was, now that the moment had come, Dick was afraid to put the costume back on.

He had guessed he would feel a little nervous about becoming Robin again, but he hadn't expected to feel this rattled…or this vulnerable.

Dick knew being a crime fighter made him a target – that was part of the gig – but what Joker had done to him was more personal. The clown had taken him and tortured him, not because he was a crime fighter but because he was _Robin_. It cut deeper and got under Dick's skin in a way that other attacks never had. Most criminals tried to kill him for _what_ he did, whereas Joker had tortured him for _who_ he was; it made him wonder exactly what kind of a target being Robin made him.

And much as he hated to admit it, that scared him. Dick didn't hate many things but he really hated Joker for taking away the freedom that being Robin had once brought him.

"Dick, are you okay?" the deep voice of his guardian sounded behind him and he turned to find Bruce in his Batman garb with the cowl pulled back.

Dick tried to appear unconcerned. "I'm fine."

"Then why are your hands shaking?"

_Crap!_ Dick dropped his hands out of Bruce's line of sight. "They're not shaking!"

The man came towards him and put a hand on his shoulder, staring down at him in concern. "Dick, if you're not ready–"

"But I am!" Dick burst out in frustration. "I _want_ to be Robin again! I _miss_ being Robin! Bruce, please don't make me stay in again!" He stared up fearfully at his guardian, hoping he wouldn't change his mind and forbid him from going on patrol. He knew Bruce was only doing it because he cared, but his overprotectiveness of the last few months was driving Dick crazy.

"Dick, you don't have to prove anything to anyone, including yourself," Bruce told him quietly.

"I'm not trying to prove anything, Bruce, I promise. I just…I…I really want to be Robin again," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. He really did, but why the hell was he so _scared_?

"And you will be. But why push yourself before you're ready?"

"But I feel ready! It's…I just…" Dick bit his lip. "Bruce, I'm…I'm afraid of how criminals see me now…that never bothered me before."

"You mean before Joker made it personal?"

Dick nodded. "I don't understand why it…excited him so much to…to torture Robin."

Bruce squeezed his shoulder. "And I know that's scary, Dick, but what you need to understand is that it says more about Joker than it does about you. Violent sociopaths like that are rarer than the media would have you believe; even our Joker isn't as twisted as the clown from Jason's reality. Most criminals are more concerned with what you're doing to mess up their plans than who you are."

"But what happens if we meet someone like that again?"

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it," Bruce answered. Then he leaned down and gave Dick one of his rare hugs. "But I think Batman and Robin are up to the job, don't you?"

Dick nodded into his shoulder and hugged back tightly, breathing in the familiar woody smell that defined Batman and made him feel safe.

After a minute, Bruce pulled back, both hands on Dick's shoulders. He looked the boy straight in the eye. "What do you say, Partner? Feel like catching bad guys tonight?"

Dick smiled, the beating of his heart slightly less. "Always."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks to all you wonderful people who took the time to comment on the last chapter, I hugely appreciate it. Sending lots of good thoughts for the New Year your way! :)

oOo

It was cold and Jason wished it would hurry the hell up and snow. If he had to put up with temperatures like this then he wanted something to show for it.

A swish sounded behind him and he turned just in time to see Batman and Robin land on the roof. "Well you two took your sweet time!" he grumbled.

"We were delayed," Batman replied while Robin dropped his gaze to the ground and tugged at one of his gloves. Jason couldn't help but notice that his Robin costume now had long sleeves.

Knowing better than to ask what had delayed them, Jason faced Batman. "I did a sweep of the city while I was waiting; looks like something big is going down at the docks."

Batman narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Batman growled, looking distinctly unhappy. Jason was pretty pissed as well. An entire week of busting their asses to ensure tonight was quiet on the streets and some moron had decided to derail their well-laid plans. Jason's only consolation was that he could now beat the tar out of said moron.

"Let's go," Batman ordered, swinging off of the roof and into the night. Robin and Red Hood followed quickly.

It didn't take long to arrive at the docks. The trio landed on a warehouse roof and assessed the situation. There were at least eight men with guns patrolling a secluded area of the docks while another five were stationed on the deck of a small boat. Lights in the warehouse just across from the boat suggested that whatever was going down was happening in there.

"Want me to scope out the warehouse?" Jason asked.

"No," said Batman. "I'll go. Wait here." Then he was gone, melting into the darkness.

Shrugging, Jason studied the men below instead. They were all wearing masks, but while the men on the docks were carrying handguns, the ones on the boats held TAR-21 assault rifles. He frowned. That was some pretty heavy firepower.

"RH, you think this is a drugs shipment?" Robin asked.

"If it is, it's a big one."

"They're not shipping drugs, they're shipping guns," a new voice told them, causing them to spin around, weapons at the ready.

"Relax, it's me," said a tall, red-haired figure.

Robin dropped his hands. "Speedy! What are you doing here?"

"It's Red Arrow," he ground out. "I've been tracking these guys from Star City – Brick is behind the sale, but I don't know who he's selling to."

"Do you know what kind of guns they're selling?"

"M4 carbines."

Robin's eyes widened. "Those are military standard semi-automatics!"

"Exactly. So what are you two just standing around here for?"

"Waiting," Robin explained while Jason scowled. "Batman's checking out the warehouse before we hit them. You in?"

The older teen looked irritated. "Considering this was my bust to begin with–"

"But not your city," Jason interrupted, glaring at him. Of all the heroes they could have run into tonight, why did it have to be Roy Bloody Harper? The angry teenager set his teeth on edge with his I-hate-everybody shtick. Not to mention that his I-won't-do-a-damn-thing-I'm-told attitude was a poor example for Robin.

"It's not your city either!" Roy snapped, glaring back. The dislike was mutual.

"Does it matter whose city it is?" Robin interjected, voice tinged with annoyance. "There's a bunch of armed goons down there selling high-powered automatic weapons! What matters is that they don't hit the streets!"

"Robin is right," growled a deep voice and Batman emerged from the shadows. "Whatever your issues are with one another, forget them until we get this done."

Jason and Red Arrow nodded but continued to glare at one another.

"Batman," Robin addressed him, "do you know who the buyer is?"

"It's Black Mask. And we need to move quickly; if they get those guns off of the boat, it will be much harder to take them down."

"What's the plan?" Roy demanded.

"Red Hood and Robin will take out the men on the boat first without alerting those on the docks. Robin, once the boat is clear I want you to take it out into open water so the other men can't access those guns."

Robin nodded and Batman turned to the older teenager. "Red Arrow, you and I will incapacitate the men watching the perimeter; we lose the element of surprise once Robin starts up that boat."

"How many are in the warehouse?" Jason wanted to know.

"Nine, including Black Mask and Brick."

"That makes seventeen once we take out the guns on the boat," Jason calculated. "That gives us a few butts each to kick!"

"Black Mask and Brick won't be that easy to take down," Roy reminded him snidely.

"Never said they would!" Jason shot back.

"Enough!" Batman growled. "Robin, Red Hood, you know what to do."

Jason shot the red-haired teenager a last dirty look. "Let's go, Robin."

He and Robin used the shadows to swoop silently onto a larger boat moored beside the gun-runners' vessel. Cautiously they peered over the side, evaluating the situation.

Two of the men were just retreating below deck, leaving three up top. It was too silent to advance from the water; the splashes would be clearly heard. Not to mention that Jason had zero intention of getting wet. He considered rappelling from this boat onto the roof of the smaller boat and turned to inform Robin of that plan, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. Snapping to look behind him then turning back to view the gun-runners' boat, Jason's mouth fell open as he spotted Robin slipping in through one of the port-hole windows.

_How in the hell did he do that?! I never heard him move!_

Jason would have been impressed if he weren't so pissed at Robin for flying solo. Quickly, he removed a weighted rope from his jacket – his grapple gun would have made too much noise – and whirled it before tossing it towards the other boat where it wrapped silently around the pole on the cabin roof.

He tugged, making sure it was secure, before tying his end to the railing and sliding neatly down onto the roof of the other boat where he cut the rope, letting it drift back towards the larger boat. He peered over the edge of the roof. Two men stood directly below him, their attention on the docks in front. Jason smirked, dropping silently behind them. They were out cold and trussed up in less than fifteen seconds.

He glanced towards the docks making sure the men there couldn't see him before moving towards the bow of the boat where he knew the third man was. The other two were below deck with Robin. Jason scowled; he was itching to get down there and make sure the boy was alright.

A sharp blow to the skull took care of the third man and Jason dragged his unconscious form to where the bodies of the other two were. They would have to get them off the boat before Robin took it into open water.

Heading below deck, the silence niggled at Jason; there were no sounds of a struggle or voices, and he wondered where Robin was.

In the narrow galley passage, a door swung slightly with the listing of the boat. Approaching it, he carefully pushed it open to find the final two men unconscious and tightly bound beside a massive cargo of guns.

Suddenly, someone dropped on him from above and Jason whirled, ready to fight as the figure landed behind him.

"Chill, RH!" laughed a familiar voice. "It's me."

Robin stood there, grinning up at him.

"Jeez, Kid, don't do that!" Jason grumbled, putting his bat-a-rangs away. "I could have taken your head off!"

"No, you wouldn't, you're too good," Robin replied simply. "Help me get them upstairs; they were too heavy for me to move."

"Let's take the big guy first," said Jason, eyeing the man's frame in resignation. "Grab his legs."

Robin complied and they carried the unconscious figure above deck. Jason used the task as an opportunity to lecture Robin on the dangers of boarding the boat alone, scolding rapidly while the boy rolled his eyes.

"Dude, chill!" Robin interrupted as they dropped the big guy with the other three men. "It worked, didn't it? Besides, I knew there was no way _you_ were fitting through that port-hole and that it'd be quicker if I took out the two downstairs first."

"But what if something had gone wrong?" Jason argued as they returned below deck. "You shouldn't disobey orders like that! You know, I blame Red Arrow for this; he's a bad influence."

"Okay, first, I can take care of myself! Second, I didn't disobey orders; Batman never specified that we had to stay together. And third, what do you have against Red Arrow?"

"What do I have against Red Arrow?" Jason grunted as they lifted the final man and moved towards the door. "For starters, he's an angry idiot who doesn't listen to anything he's told. Second, he swears too much around people he shouldn't and third, he has a serious attitude problem!"

Robin started to laugh.

"What's so damn funny?" Jason snapped as they hoisted the man up the stairs between them.

"You are! You do know you just described yourself?"

Jason spluttered with indignation. "Are you saying we're alike?!"

"Is the sky blue?"

They reached the top of the steps just as gunfire shattered the silence.

"Looks like we've been busted!" Jason snapped. "Get to the cab and start that engine! I'll get these guys off and keep the others at bay!"

Robin disappeared, leaving Jason to drag the last man towards the gangplank where he rolled him down onto the docks below. The same fate followed for the next man who grunted as he was unceremoniously shoved after his partner. But before Jason could roll the third one off, gunfire whistled overhead and he was forced to take cover behind the boat's railing.

"Dammit!" he snapped, producing his own gun and firing at the approaching goon squad.

They scattered quickly, obviously surprised that someone who worked with Batman carried a gun. Jason knew Batman didn't approve but he felt naked without his gun, and right now said firearm was coming in pretty damn handy. He discharged the weapon again and while the men scuttled for cover, used the opportunity to seize a third man and literally throw him over the railings. He landed with a loud thump on the docks below.

The roar of an engine sounded and Jason swore under his breath as the boat shuddered to life. The last two men were still on the boat. He'd never get them off before the boat moved into open water, but he couldn't leave them here with Robin and the guns – nor could he abandon Batman and Red Arrow to take care of the goons on the dock and in the warehouse by themselves; the men were too well armed.

His dilemma was solved when Batman suddenly dropped from overhead and grabbed one of the unconscious men, throwing him over his shoulder. "Get the other one!" he ordered, firing his grapple gun and swooping away once more.

Jason quickly followed suit just as the boat began to move. Swinging towards the docks, he threw the unconscious criminal at the men who were shooting at him and the body slammed into them at full force, knocking them to the ground and sending their weapons scattering across the dock. He continued forward, smashing feet first into one of the men and sending him backwards. Quickly, Jason cold-cocked him and he slumped into unconsciousness.

Whirling, he dashed into the fray where Batman was currently embroiled in combat with several armed goons. Two bound figures struggled on the ground a little further away and Jason could just discern Roy on one of the metal shipping containers, shooting arrows with deadly accuracy. A third figure dropped as one of Roy's arrows hit him, encasing him in a long coil of rope. But the teenager was forced to retreat as a hail of gunfire snickered towards him; Black Mask, Brick and the men from the warehouse had joined the fracas.

Jason threw a hard right at the nearest man and, while he was stunned, used him as a shield against the onslaught of bullets. That definitely wasn't a move Batman would approve of, but if these guys were willing to shoot their own then that wasn't his problem. A bullet tore into the criminal's shoulder and he went limp, causing Jason to drop him. The injured man crashed to the ground. Exposed once more, Jason sprang at one of the men that he had disarmed when he swept onto the dock. Within seconds, that man joined his unconscious comrades in arms.

Jason took a split second to evaluate how they were faring. Three men were bound and squirming on the ground, while a fourth was trapped in a large net; a result of Roy's arrows. Five more lay unconscious several feet away, casualties of Batman's fighting prowess. Jason was irritated to realize that he had only incapacitated three on the docks.

_Time to even the score!_

While Batman was dispensing with the last of the henchmen, Jason bounded towards Black Mask only to find himself brutally slammed into a wall by Brick, who appeared from out of the shadows. A massive hand seized his throat and lifted him clear off the ground. Jason gasped and scrabbled at the paw cutting off his air.

Suddenly a bang erupted and Brick stumbled, releasing Jason, who tucked and rolled out of his way. As he jumped to his feet, his eyes fell on Roy, who was standing behind Brick, bow and arrow aimed and at the ready. Jason realized that it was one of his exploding arrows that had saved him and scowled. He really didn't want to be indebted to Roy Harper.

Brick snarled and spun around, fixing his gaze on the red-haired teenager. "You're really starting to become a pain in my ass, Kid!"

"Happy to be of service," Roy growled back.

The man's face darkened in anger. "Well, your _service_ is no longer needed!" Brick raised his arm and Jason could see a detonator in his hand.

"Look out! He– " Jason was thrown off his feet as a massive explosion rocked the docks. Roy was also knocked to the ground while his bow and arrow flew from his hands.

_Son of a bitch was ready for us!_ thought Jason furiously, tumbling further away from Brick and towards Roy as flames shot up around them.

"You alright?" he grunted at Roy, who was clambering to his feet.

"Fine. Where–"

A snicker of bullets whizzed towards them, forcing them to retreat; Brick had produced a machine pistol and was firing rapidly at them. Jason glanced around quickly, searching for cover, and his gaze landed on Batman facing off against Black Mask on the other side of the flames.

Brick fired again, forcing Roy and Jason to dive in opposite directions. Jason landed behind one of the crates that had fallen in the explosion, while Roy ducked behind a parked van. Brick roared with laughter as he sprayed the ground with bullets.

Gritting his teeth, Jason returned fire, but his own gun was no match for Brick's automatic. He was just pausing to reload when from somewhere overhead echoed a creepy little laugh. Without warning, the crane above them came to life and the massive crate in its grasp was dropped on an unsuspecting Brick, smashing on impact and its contents pinning the behemoth to the ground.

Brick gave a howl of rage and fired sporadically upwards, his gun hand still free, before a bat-a-rang flew through the air knocking it from his grasp and sending it scattering across the dock.

Jason stood up just in time to see Robin land gracefully in front of the pinned criminal. "Robin! What the hell?! You're supposed to be taking the guns out into open water!" He stalked over to the boy who turned, looking very pleased with himself.

"Relax, RH. The boat's anchored just outside the harbour. I radioed Gotham PD and they're sending a boat to collect the shipment." He tilted his head hearing a wail of sirens in the distance. "Huh, sounds like they decided to send reinforcements here as well. Too bad we didn't leave them any butt to kick!" He gave Jason a cocky grin just as Roy joined them.

The archer was glaring at the young teenager. "Robin, are you insane taking on Brick like that? He could rip you in two!"

Robin rolled his eyes. "I didn't take him on; I dropped a crate on him! Big difference. And in case you didn't notice, I just saved both your asses!"

"Language!" Jason and Roy snapped at once.

Robin blinked, then laughed at their annoyed expressions. "Awww, you guys are even speaking in tandem now! Isn't that _cute_?"

Jason scowled and folded his arms at Robin's teasing. No, it was not cute! He and Roy Harper were nothing alike!

"Where's Batman?" Roy demanded, seemingly equally irritated to be compared to Jason.

"Securing the men and Black Mask on the other side of those flames." Robin pointed in that direction. "You know, we should probably–" His words were cut off with a sudden squawk as he was dragged to the ground.

While they were talking, they had failed to notice Brick manage to partially wriggle out from under the crate. With both hands free, he had seized Robin's right arm and yanked him down towards him, where he immediately put a knife to the boy's throat while one massive hand kept a tight grip on his arm.

"Nobody move!" Brick snarled, pushing the knife close to the jugular. He smirked at Roy. "Looks like your service is required after all, _Speedy_. Get in that crane and get this thing off me!"

Roy looked like he wanted to rip Brick apart as he complied. Jason watched him approach the ladder that led up to the cab of the crane and start to climb.

"Back away, Hood," Brick addressed Jason, pressing the blade precariously into Robin's throat. "Back away far or I'll paint this whole area red!"

Jason did as ordered, growling through gritted teeth the whole time. "Hurt him and you're a dead man, Brick!"

The big man's smirk widened and Jason itched to put his fist through that grin.

But they had both underestimated Robin. Without warning, the teenager swiftly twisted sideways and kicked his leg up into Brick's hand, knocking the knife away. Before either Jason or Brick could react, Robin smashed his fist into Brick's nose, eliciting a howl of pain from the man. He loosened his grip on Robin's arm and the boy had almost pulled free until Brick, eyes watering, seized the sleeve of his uniform.

"Let. Go!" Robin hissed dangerously while one meaty paw clamped down on his right wrist.

"Make me, Bird Boy!"

Running towards them, Jason heard the crack that Brick's nose made when Robin slammed the heel of his left hand upwards into it with deadly force, followed by a ripping sound as Robin's sleeve tore when he yanked his arm from Brick's grasp, leaving his glove in the man's hand. Quickly, he tumbled out of arm's reach, snapping to his feet beside Jason.

"Nice move, Kid," said Jason, patting his shoulder.

Robin grinned. "Told you I could take care of myself."

"I'm gonna kill you, you little louse!" Brick screamed at Robin. His eyes were streaming.

"Good luck with that," said Robin in amusement. The wail of sirens drew closer. "But in case you hadn't noticed, you're pretty screwed right now."

Brick's response was to hurl Robin's own glove at the teenager where it smacked against the boy's chest and dropped to the ground with a plop.

Robin raised an eyebrow. "A temper tantrum? Seriously? Dude, what are you, three?" He bent down to pick up the glove. "Thanks for this though, I was just wondering how to get it back."

"You little– " Brick froze and his eyes narrowed.

Jason was surprised to see a gleeful grin unfurl across his face and felt something drop in the pit of his stomach at the sudden change of mood.

The criminal kept his eyes on Robin, his nasty grin growing wider. "You know, Kid, normally I would tear you apart for that stunt but –" his eyes went to Robin's exposed arm "– it looks like someone beat me to it."

Robin froze and Jason dropped his gaze to where Brick was staring. His heart thudded painfully. Robin's torn sleeve revealed the name 'Joker' etched into his skin in all its red raw, gory detail. It was the first time since his brutal encounter with the clown that Jason had seen his arm; Dick was always careful to keep those scars hidden. Jason hadn't realized until now how little they had faded as the angry, livid red stripes glared up at him.

"Looks like you're someone else's bitch!" Brick sneered at the boy.

Robin huddled into himself and his arms disappeared beneath his cape. Jason moved to smash the giant's ugly mug in, but someone else beat him to it as an arrow exploded in the man's face.

Jason turned to find Roy standing behind them, his bow and arrow at the ready once more.

"Exploding Nichrome, you son of a bitch!" he snarled, his face dark with anger. "Hurts like hell and makes your eyes feel like they're being scrubbed with sandpaper for _days_ afterwards. Let's just see how observant you are when you're trying to claw your eyes out!"

Jason felt a grim satisfaction to see Brick whimpering and rubbing at his eyes. It was the first time ever he approved of Roy Harper's actions.

But as Robin's devastated expression tore at something deep within him, Jason wondered angrily just why the hell it had to be for something like this.

oOo

Jason arrived at Wayne Manor before noon the next day. After the incident at the docks, it had been late when he finished patrol and he was exhausted, but he was also very anxious to see Dick.

After Brick's cruel taunt, Robin had retreated into himself, not speaking to anyone. Once the Gotham PD had taken the men into custody and retrieved the stash of guns, Batman had decided to take the miserable boy home, leaving Jason to finish patrol. But he hadn't been alone; Roy, to his credit, had assisted him.

United in their anger against Brick and their pity for Robin, Jason and Roy – while not quite bosom buddies – had managed to put aside their sniping and patrolled Gotham City with something akin to civility. Jason had reluctantly conceded that perhaps Roy wasn't the biggest ass in the world.

He would never admit that to him though.

Ringing the bell of the massive ebony front door, Jason stuck his hands in his pockets and scowled. Everything had been going so _well_! He knew Dick had been nervous about returning to the role of Robin and, despite his own overprotectiveness, Jason had been pleased to see the boy's confidence return – even if it was because he had saved Red Hood's butt! He sighed angrily. Why the hell did Brick have to ruin it?

The door opened to reveal Alfred in his usual coat and tails. "Good morning, Master Jason," he intoned, standing aside to let him in.

"Hi, Alfred," he replied, stepping into the hall. "Where's Dick?"

"Master Dick is in the living room. The Christmas tree arrived this morning and he is attempting to decorate it."

"Attempting?"

"I do not believe Master Dick's heart is in the task this year."

Jason's own heart sank at that news. Dick had been so excited about the tree yesterday. "Did he say something to you?"

"No, but Master Bruce enlightened me on the events of last night's patrol." Alfred looked sad. "Also, the absence of Christmas music and the Santa hat that Master Dick usually dons for this task suggest the lad is not himself."

_Dammit!_ "Where's Bruce?"

"Master Bruce is on the phone in his office. He received an urgent call from Lucius Fox this morning."

Jason couldn't help but feel mildly irritated at Bruce. It was Sunday; couldn't he forget about Wayne Enterprises for _one_ bloody day? "Thanks, Alfred. I'll just go check on Dick, okay?"

"Of course, Sir. Can I bring you anything?"

"No thanks, Alfred," Jason called back over his shoulder, already trotting down the long corridor to the living room.

Entering the room, he found most of the furniture had been moved aside to accommodate the massive tree which stood proudly in the centre of the room. Boxes of decorations were strewn around the tree, while a large, two-sided ladder was propped next to it. The large antique desk that was normally located behind the couch had been pulled up in front of the tree and Dick was sitting cross-legged on it, his back to Jason while he stared up at the tree.

Jason could tell by how still Dick was that he was upset. Normally the boy was a ball of energy; twisting, fidgeting, squirming, moving. He decided to take a slightly light-hearted approach until he could determine whether Dick wanted to talk or not. "Does Alfred know this room looks like a bomb hit it?"

Dick turned. "Hey, Jason," he said quietly, making no attempt to hide his mood.

Jason could tell at once that he needed to talk to someone. He came around the desk and sat beside Dick, one leg crossed under him and the other hanging down the side as he faced the boy. "You okay?"

Dick shook his head, his eyes on the Christmas decorations in his hands; two green balls with gold writing on them. No, not writing – names. One ball had the name 'John' painted on it in big looping letters, while the other read 'Mary'. Jason felt his pulse speed up slightly. Weren't those Dick's parents' names?

"My Dad made these," Dick told him softly. "It's a Grayson family tradition to have the name of everyone in the family on a Christmas tree decoration."

"Where's yours?"

Dick indicated with his chin towards the boxes. "Over there somewhere. Mine's red of course," he added, somewhat bitterly. "Robin's colours."

"Did your dad make yours?" Jason asked quietly. He had never heard Dick talk about his family before.

Dick nodded. "My first Christmas here, I made Bruce and Alfred's," he whispered, voice quivering. Hurriedly, he swiped at his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Hey, you don't ever need to apologise for missing your folks," Jason told him gently.

Dick didn't respond, his eyes remaining glued to the baubles. Jason put a hand on his arm and just waited.

Finally, "Jay, do…do you think my parents would be proud of me?" Dick looked up at him, his eyes suspiciously wet.

Jason immediately shifted closer, putting an arm around Dick's shoulders. "Kiddo, I _know_ they'd be proud of you. Why would you even ask that?"

"Because of what I do as Robin. I know I'm being a hero and saving people and everything, but…after Joker…I don't know…I sometimes wonder if Mom and Dad would be mad or disappointed in me for putting myself in danger."

"Dick, that's insane! You save people's _lives_! Why would they be disappointed in you?!"

Dick's gaze was on the Christmas decorations once more. "I know it sounds crazy, but…they died and I'm still alive. And I know that they'd want me to keep living…so why do I do something that could very easily get me killed? Jay, I kind of feel like maybe I'm disrespecting their memory or something by going out and fighting crime…like I'm throwing being alive back in their faces, or like I don't value my own life and that would disappoint them." He shrugged. "I don't know."

Jason was stunned. Those were very dark and very deep thoughts for a thirteen-year-old to be having. He had to think for a moment before he responded. "Dick, you got involved in crime fighting to get revenge for your parents' deaths, right?"

"Justice," Dick corrected, glancing up quickly.

Jason gave a small smile at the difference between them. He was all about vengeance, but for Dick, this was about justice. "Kid, right there shows the reason your parents would be proud of you."

"Huh?" Dick looked confused.

"Dick, despite everything you've been through, you still believe in justice. That kind of optimism is a very rare quality – most people in your shoes would turn into bitter idiots who feel sorry for themselves! Take me for example–"

"You're not a bitter idiot!"

Jason smiled. "Maybe not now, but I used to be; it took learning a very hard lesson before I stopped being an ass." Jason didn't mention that it was Dick's near death at the hands of the Joker that had been that lesson; he wasn't sure how Dick would feel about that. "And I still suck at putting people first! But you don't. Even now, you're not thinking about yourself, you're wondering how your parents would feel." He squeezed the boy's shoulder. "Dick, you're probably the most unselfish person I know and you're only thirteen. Trust me, your parents would be very proud of you."

"Thanks, Jay," he said, eyes returning to the baubles in his hands yet again.

Jason nudged him. "You don't sound very convinced."

Dick shrugged.

"I'll take that as a no. Dick, what's brought all this on? Does it have anything to do with Brick last night?"

Dick nodded, not looking at him.

_Fucking bastard!_ "Want to tell me how that ass and your parents are connected?"

"They're not…exactly. It's just…" Dick looked up, his expression wretched. "Brick thought it was hilarious that Joker had done _this_!" He ripped his sleeve back to reveal the horrible scars once more. "And he looked at me like…like I was insane for still being there! Like I was a little kid who didn't belong! And ever since _this_ –" Dick shook his exposed arm angrily "– everyone has been acting like Robin can't hack it anymore!

"Do you think Robin can't hack it anymore?" Jason asked carefully.

"No! But no one seems to be giving me a chance to prove that – even you and Batman! Don't think I don't know that you spent the last week working overtime on patrol trying to make things easier for me last night."

Jason winced. _Guess I wasn't as subtle as I thought_. "Guilty as charged. But you know we're only doing it because we care, right?"

"I know. But, Jason, I'm never going to get past what happened with Joker if you guys don't give me a chance to move on. How am I supposed to forget what happened when you keep babying me and making me feel helpless? It's bad enough that I have to remember it every time I take a shower or change clothes!" Scowling, he pulled his sleeve down, hiding the scars once more.

Jason felt a stab of pity. Why the hell hadn't that super club Bruce was a member of found a way to fade those scars? Weren't the League supposed to have some of the brightest minds in the world? He resolved to tackle Bruce about that as soon as he could. "Dick, I'm sorry we've been making you feel like that, neither Bruce or I mean to."

"I know you don't. But now that you know, can you just...stop? Please?"

Jason sighed. "I'll make a deal with you – no more kid gloves when you're Robin. But the overprotection still stands when you're not. That's my job in case you've forgotten."

Dick grinned slightly. "Deal."

"Feel better?"

"A little." He looked up at Jason. "Thanks, Jay."

"Anytime. You know that." Jason squeezed his shoulder before removing his arm. "Now, what are we going to do about this tree?"

"We?" Dick looked hopeful. "You mean you're going to help?"

Jason shrugged. "Why not? I'm here, aren't I? I can't promise I'll be any good though, I've never decorated a tree before. Will that be okay with you, Mr. I'm-not-happy-unless-the-tree-is-perfect?"

"Just fine so long as you take direction well!" Dick shot back. "We don't do shoddy trees here in Wayne Manor."

Jason chuckled. "Whatever. Where do we start?"

"With the right tools," Dick told him with a sly grin, then jumped off the desk and started digging in one of the boxes. "Here we go!" He stood up and held out a Santa hat.

Jason stared at the offensive item. "I am _not_ wearing that!"

"But it's part of the uniform for decorating a tree!"

"I don't care if it's made of gold and can make me invisible! I'm still not putting it on."

"Please, Jason?" Dick begged. "Bruce never wants to decorate the tree and I haven't really had the chance to share Christmas with anyone since…since…"

"Since your folks," Jason finished. Dick nodded.

He was beginning to understand now why Dick made such a big deal out of the Christmas tree. Studying the boy's half-desperate, half-excited expression, Jason sighed. Why the hell was Dick so bloody hard to say no to?

"Okay, fine!" He snatched the hat from Dick's proffered hands. "But, Kid, listen to me; no pictures and no comments…and we don't mention this to anyone. In fact, after today we'll never speak of it again, got it?"

Dick sniggered. "You're such a drama queen, Jay, it's just a hat! Okay, fine!" he added hurriedly as Jason glared. "Not a word to anyone, cross my heart!" He mimed drawing an X across his heart.

Jason gave him one last suspicious look before jamming the stupid hat on his head. "Okay, Short-stuff, your turn. If I'm going to do this then I'm not going to be the only idiot in the room!"

Dick happily complied, snatching his own hat off the table and pulling it down over his dark hair.

Jason rolled his eyes at the insanely cheesy grin on Dick's face. But at least he was smiling. "Alright, Kid, where do we start?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Some swearing in this chapter, peeps, just a heads up. Also, thank you to the awesome people who have commented so far. You rock! :)

oOo

Jason slouched in a chair at the back of the boardroom at Wayne Enterprises. It was Monday morning and Bruce had called a meeting with the most senior members of his security team to discuss the events of Friday night. Lucius Fox was also in attendance; nothing happened at Wayne Enterprises that he wasn't privy to.

Bruce entered the room and Jason chuckled to himself as all the men – with the exception of himself and Lucius – jumped to their feet. He knew it was Thomas Lee's military background that was responsible for that formality, but Jason still found it hilarious; it was like watching the president enter the room.

"I'm sorry for keeping you gentlemen," Bruce said, reaching the top of the table, "but I just received a phone call from the hospital. I'm afraid Eric Johnson passed away early this morning."

Jason's smile dropped from his face. Eric was one of the three security guards shot by the masked gunmen on Friday night. He was now also the fifth casualty; two civilians had died as well.

Bruce's expression was dark as he looked around the room. "Maggie is arranging condolence books for each of the guards. Please let your teams know that they will be available from this afternoon should any staff member wish to sign them. Maggie will also send a memo to all departments."

Heads nodded around the table and Jason could see that some of them were upset at the news; Eric had been well-liked.

"Now, to the matter at hand," Bruce continued. "The possibility that someone on our security team is responsible for passing on information to the gunmen. Thomas, would you fill everyone in on what you know so far?"

"Of course, Mr. Wayne." Lee remained on his feet while everyone else sat down.

"You all know that the gunmen were able to gain entrance to the ballroom through the French doors because Mr. West was lured away by the charms of a young woman," Lee began. "We now know that the woman in question was not on the guest list which adds weight to the suspicion that this was an inside job. Only a member of our security team could have gotten her inside the ballroom."

"How do you know this woman wasn't on the guest list?" asked Keith Daniels, one of the oldest members on the Wayne security team.

"In the aftermath of the shooting, the young woman slipped away," Lee replied. "No one seems to know who she was and everyone on the guest list was accounted for. The only explanation for her presence is that she was in on the attempted heist."

Something clicked in Jason's memory. "What did this woman look like?" he asked. Every head in the room turned to look at him but he ignored them.

Of the twelve senior members on the Wayne security team, Jason was the only one who hadn't been working for Wayne Enterprises for years. He knew most of them still didn't trust him, but he didn't particularly care; the opinions of people not close to him had never mattered to Jason.

Thomas Lee frowned. "Does it matter what she looks like?"

"It does if I think I might know who she is," Jason retorted shortly.

There were one or two whispered gasps around the table. Again, Jason ignored them.

Lee raised an eyebrow. "West said she was wearing a purple dress, blonde hair…very attractive."

Jason sighed. Damn. "Her name is Lori something; she works at Flash Harry's." He was angry at himself for not seeing this sooner; he had _known_ something was off about that woman being there, but he had been so blind-sided by his attraction to her that he had ignored his gut instinct.

"And just how do you know that, Jason?" demanded Keith Daniels, staring at him with mistrust. In fact, several faces around the table were now studying him with wary expressions.

Jason realized that a few of them suspected him of being the one who had leaked the security information. "I've seen her working at Flash Harry's," he replied, not bothering to explain why he had been there. Every member of the Wayne security team had been drinking in that bar at some point. "She approached me at the party."

"Was that the woman I saw speaking with you and Dick?" Lee demanded, his forehead crinkling in remembrance.

Jason nodded.

"What did she want?"

"To flirt. She'd lost her date and said she was bored. I got rid of her after she tried to pull some seduction crap on Dick."

At the far end of the table, Bruce sat up straighter and scowled. Jason winced. He had forgotten to mention that little titbit to Bruce.

"Sounds like she may have targeted you first," Lee mused. "When you didn't bite, she moved onto West. But it gives us something new for the police. Nice work, Todd."

He sounded pleased with Jason for resisting her. But truthfully, it hadn't been all that hard once she had come over all femme fatale on Dick. Jason scowled; that shit should _not _be pulled on an innocent thirteen-year-old.

"What about the men in custody?" Ryan Jackson asked. "Can't they tell you anything?"

"They've got their mouths puckered tighter than a Swiss vault," Lee answered sourly. "Called for their lawyers as soon as they reached Gotham PD. They won't say anything."

"But Commissioner Gordon has identified three of them as being known associates of Joe Minette," Bruce interjected. "The police will investigate that angle. What we need to do is to find out who leaked the information to them."

"Mr. Wayne is right," Thomas Lee added seriously. "And I think we can safely assume that the culprit isn't in this room; everyone here has proven their loyalty to Bruce and Wayne Enterprises – even Jason."

Jason was taken aback, both by the vote of confidence and that Lee was using his first name.

"I know that some of you don't trust Jason," Lee continued, "but Bruce trusts him and that should be enough. So we will be looking _outside_ of this room for the person responsible for Friday night's tragedy."

"What do you want us to do?" asked Keith Daniels, still glancing suspiciously at Jason.

"Keep a close eye on the men under your command," Lee replied. "Talk to the few that you trust completely, and ask them if they noticed anything last Friday night…or even if they've noticed anything unusual since then. I myself will be investigating everyone who has joined the team in the last year. But until we find the leak, no information is to be shared with the rest of the staff unless absolutely necessary."

The men around the table all nodded their agreement.

"Good. Thank you for your time, Gentlemen, you can return to work now." Lee waved his hand to dismiss them.

While the rest of the room got to their feet and headed for the door, talking in low voices, Jason moved towards Bruce who was engaged in conversation with Thomas Lee and Lucius Fox. He wanted to talk to the billionaire about Dick.

Jason had spent the previous day with Dick, decorating not only the Christmas tree but the rest of Wayne Manor as well. When they had finished, they had sat down to watch Christmas movies with some of Alfred's shortbread cookies and hot chocolate, falling asleep in front of the fire. Jason had enjoyed the cheesy normality of it and, after such a festive afternoon, had surprised himself by deciding against the grind of patrol for one night. But it also meant that he had missed speaking with Bruce – who had gone on patrol as Batman while he was asleep on the couch, and returned long after Jason went home.

"Bruce, can we talk?" he demanded, interrupting the three men who were deep in conversation.

Bruce raised an eyebrow but nodded, while Lucius grinned at the blunt interruption. Jason knew the older man liked him and didn't object to his direct manner.

Thomas Lee however was frowning. "Todd! Is that any way to address your superiors?"

Jason shot him a dark look. No one was his damn superior!

"Its fine, Thomas," Bruce interjected mildly, giving Jason a warning look. "We'll continue this discussion later. Jason let's go to my office." Nodding at the two men, they left the boardroom.

"You do know the security leak is probably Justin Lee," Jason told Bruce as they walked down the corridor to his office. "He's only been here three weeks, _and_ he's a gambling addict."

"Former," Bruce corrected.

"Once an addict, always an addict."

Bruce frowned. "That's very narrow thinking from you, Jason. Everyone deserves a second chance…Any messages, Maggie?" he asked, stopping at his secretary's desk.

"No, Sir." She shook her head, then smiled at Jason who nodded back. He was well-aware that the woman had a crush on him.

"But as it happens, I agree with you," Bruce continued, after he and Jason entered the privacy of his office. "There's no doubt in my mind that Justin is involved in this. He owes Minette money."

"How do you know that?"

"I looked into his history after Thomas asked me to hire him on a trial basis."

"Then why hire him when you knew that?!" Jason demanded, watching Bruce sit into the chair behind his desk.

"You know why, because Thomas begged me to give him a chance. He really believes his son is trying to turn his life around."

"His son is an idiot. Why can't he see that?"

Bruce gave a small smile. "Because he's his son."

Something in that statement caused a small twang of pain in Jason's chest, although he didn't quite understand why. "Whatever. Bruce, if you know he's responsible for Friday then why is Justin still here? And why are you letting Lee carry out his investigation? It's a waste of time."

"Not to him it isn't. I think that deep down Thomas suspects Justin is the culprit, but he's not yet ready to give up the hope that his son is trying to change."

"And what if Justin does a runner?"

"He won't, not yet. As long as he thinks no one suspects him, he'll stay. I imagine Justin is rather desperate to find a way to pay Minette back, and working for Wayne Enterprises might present a good opportunity to achieve that in his reasoning. But enough about Lee, I'm guessing you wanted to talk about Dick?"

Jason nodded, sinking into the chair opposite Bruce's desk. "Why haven't the League found a way to get rid of those scars yet? Are they even trying?"

"Of course they're trying! But its not that easy to fade such massive scars without changing the molecular structure of skin – which brings its own risks." Bruce looked tired. "I want those scars gone as much as you do, Jason. I know they bother Dick and that's reason enough to want them gone, but they're also a dangerous link between Dick Grayson and Robin; they make him immediately identifiable."

Jason's eyes widened at that implication. "But Brick saw the Joker scar and he's a total loudmouth…he'll be blabbing to every two-bit crook he meets!"

"Exactly." Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "It isn't such a risk now while Dick can wear long sleeves, but what happens once we hit summer? People will start to wonder if he's constantly covered up in seventy degree heat."

"Bloody Joker!" Jason snarled, covering his eyes with a hand and momentarily wishing he had killed the clown when he had the chance. "Does Dick know this?"

"He hasn't said anything but I have a feeling the thought has crossed his mind."

"Well, fuck!" Jason didn't care that Bruce hated his penchant for swearing. At least he didn't swear around Dick. Besides, this discovery merited it. He dropped his hand. "Are the League _anywhere_ close to finding a solution?"

Bruce shook his head. "If it were such a simple remedy, we would have come up with it a long time ago to hide our own scars."

Jason exhaled in frustration. Bruce had a point; the scars they received in this line of work could give them away and removing them would only prove to be an advantage in maintaining their anonymity. But right now, no one in the entire Justice League had anything close to resembling the marks that Dick carried, putting him most at risk of being found out.

"Jason, I want to thank you for yesterday" the older man told him suddenly. "Whatever you said or did, Dick was much happier this morning."

Jason snapped his fingers. "About that. Bruce, I figured out why he makes such a big deal about the Christmas tree."

"Oh?"

"From what he said, Christmas was a pretty big deal between him and his folks, very family-oriented, and Dick is trying to get you involved in the same way. Bruce, I think if you took more of an interest in Christmas, he wouldn't feel he has to try so hard to make everything perfect."

The older man looked a little taken aback by that revelation. "I guess ever since my parents died I haven't felt the spirit of Christmas enough to celebrate it."

"And I'm betting Dick hasn't either, but he's still trying," Jason pointed out. "Bruce, _you're_ the parent now and it's your job to make Christmas special for your son. He shouldn't be the one trying to make things special for you."

From somewhere in the bones of his soul, Jason felt an old, familiar ache creep in and tried to ignore it. He was beyond that little boy lost crap now.

Bruce remained silent, looking thoughtful.

"And while I think about it," Jason added. "Dick gets his Christmas vacation today. If it's okay with you, I'm going to collect him after school. I told him I'd take him ice-skating."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Ice-skating? You?"

Jason crossed his arms defensively. "Dick talked me into it, alright? I figured he needed cheering up so I said yes."

Bruce gave a knowing smile that infuriated Jason. "If you say so. Will you be going to Inside Scoop?"

"We'll do that first." Jason grimaced. "It's December, it's freaking freezing and he wants to go for ice-cream! I swear I'll never understand Dick's yen for the stuff."

Bruce chuckled just as the intercom on his desk buzzed. He pressed it. "Yes, Maggie?"

"I have Mr. Takahashi on the phone for you, Mr. Wayne," his secretary's clear voice sounded.

"Give me a moment, then patch him through," the billionaire responded. He glanced at the younger man. "Jason, I have to take this."

Jason shrugged, getting to his feet. "No problem. So it's okay for me to collect Dick this afternoon?"

Bruce nodded. "I'll let Alfred know." The phone on his desk rang and he picked it up. "Kon'nichiwa, Takahashi-san," Bruce greeted the man on the other end in flawless Japanese whilst bowing his head in farewell to Jason. The younger man gave a casual wave in return as he left the room.

oOo

Jason knocked on the door of Thomas Lee's office later that afternoon and waited for the barked "Yes?" before pushing it open.

"I'm off, Mr. Lee," he announced, sticking his head around the door. He was surprised to find Justin sitting across from his father with a dark expression on his face.

Lee looked up and frowned. "Off?"

"I'm collecting Dick from school."

The man's expression cleared. "Ah yes. School lets out for Christmas vacation, doesn't it?"

Jason nodded.

"Taking him celebrating are we?" The older man smiled indulgently and Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What the hell was Dick's secret to wrapping everyone around his little finger?!

"We've made plans to do a few things," Jason conceded. He wasn't revealing a damn thing in front of Justin.

"Good, good," said Lee absently. "Tell him I said Merry Christmas."

Knowing he was being dismissed, Jason left. He shook his head as he walked down the corridor; the tension in that room had been thick with anger and resentment. For a father and son, those two had a very uncomfortable relationship.

Unbidden, his thoughts went to his own Bruce and Jason wondered how he was. Then he frowned, troubled by how easily the man seemed to slip into his thoughts these days. _Dick's Christmas sentimentality must be getting to me._

Brushing aside the thoughts of his old mentor as he entered the parking lot, Jason headed for his car and climbed in. Turning on the engine, he fumbled with the heater and squinted up at the sky. _Still friggin' cold and still no sign of snow._ There was no way in hell Dick was getting an ice-cream into him today.

Traffic was free-flowing when Jason pulled out of the parking lot, and it took just twenty minutes to arrive at Gotham City Academy. Parking in the nearest available spot, he turned off the engine and studied the sky once more. Was it his imagination or did it look a little greyer than when he had left Wayne Enterprises? Maybe snow was finally on the way. Briefly he wondered if it were raining or snowing in the other Gotham.

_Probably raining,_ he decided. _It's always raining there._

It bothered Jason when he realized that home and his old mentor had once more slipped into his thoughts. He wasn't sure why Bruce kept popping into his head like this; he wasn't homesick, or even missing his mentor. Jason was the most content he could ever remember being and given the choice again, he would still chose to remain in this Gotham.

Just then, the school bell rang shrilly, interrupting his thoughts, and the doors immediately burst open as students poured forth from the building, laughing and chattering excitedly. After several minutes, Jason could just make out Barbara's red hair in the throng, which meant Dick was somewhere close by. Narrowing his eyes as she came closer, he spotted Dick's shorter frame beside her and grinned. He hoped for Dick's sake that the kid would have a growth spurt soon.

Jason watched as Dick and Barbara parted ways, Dick waving and calling Merry Christmas to Barbara's mother who was parked nearby, before hurrying over to where Jason was parked. "Hey, Jason," Dick greeted him cheerfully as soon as he opened the back door of the car and slung his school bag in the back seat. He slammed the door shut and moved to the front door, opening it and hopping in. He was pink-cheeked with excitement. "Did Bruce say it was okay to go ice-skating?"

Jason nodded, rolling his eyes as Dick practically bounced in his seat. "Dick, are you sure about the ice-cream? It's cold out there." Looking at the hyper teenager beside him, Jason couldn't help but think that the last thing Dick needed was sugar.

"It's Christmas vacation, we have to celebrate! Besides, Inside Scoop is our tradition now." Dick smiled at him, pulling the seat-belt across his chest and fastening it.

Jason couldn't help but smile too. "Inside Scoop it is. But I'm just having coffee and pie; it's too damn cold for ice-cream."

"Wuss!" Dick teased.

"Nice try, Kid, but I'm too old for that to work," Jason told him, ruffling his hair before starting up the car. "Besides, aren't you cold?"

"A bit, but I can always have a hot chocolate after."

Jason snorted. "Sugar overload much?"

"Hey, it's Christmas, the season of over-indulgence!"

"Followed by the season for shares in antacids," Jason muttered, guiding the car into traffic once more.

Dick grinned. "Only for old guys like you, Jay, youth doesn't need antacids."

"Kid, you're lucky I'm driving now. Give me the chance and I'll show you old!"

"Bring it on, Old Man!"

"Is that a challenge?"

"No, it's an invitation to crochet!" Dick rolled his eyes. "Yes, it's a challenge!"

Jason smiled at the cocky teenager. "What are the stakes?"

"Hand-to-hand sparring match, no weapons. The loser has to go to Mount Justice wearing an elf costume and sing Christmas carols for the entire Justice League!"

Jason grimaced. That sounded like hell. But if he backed down, Dick would never let him hear the end of it. "Deal."

They grinned quickly at one another before Jason returned his attention to the road.

"So, did you guys find out anything more about what happened on Friday night?" Dick wanted to know.

Jason nodded and filled him in on what had transpired in the meeting that morning. He finished recounting the tale just as they pulled into the parking lot near Inside Scoop.

"Do you really think Justin is behind what happened?" Dick asked as Jason shut off the engine.

"No question about it, there isn't anyone else it could have been."

Dick shook his head. "I feel bad for Mr. Lee. This is going to be hard on him."

Jason nodded his agreement as they climbed out of the warm car, wincing when the cold air hit their faces.

"Does the sky look grey to you?" Jason asked Dick, squinting upwards as they started towards the ice-cream parlour, walking briskly down the pavement to escape the cold. "I think it might snow tonight."

"Maybe," Dick replied and Jason could hear laughter in his voice.

"What?" he demanded, glancing down at the boy.

Dick's eyes were alight with mischief. "Is that why you keep staring at the sky? You've been doing it for days now."

Jason crossed his arms defensively when he realized he'd been caught. "Yeah, so?"

Dick cackled gleefully before bursting into song. "_Jason has been dreaming of a white Christmas_!" he warbled.

"Shut it, Brat!" said Jason sheepishly, putting Dick in a headlock and rubbing his head with his knuckles.

"Jay! Get off!"

Jason laughed at the muffled voice and squirming figure, releasing the boy as they reached the door of Inside Scoop. "Tell anyone I'm hoping for snow and you're a dead man!" He tried to glare at Dick, but it was ruined by the twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Dick grinned. "I dunno, Jay, between this and the Santa hat, it's kinda hard to take the tough-guy act seriously."

"You're a little troll, you know that?" Jason grumbled fondly, pushing open the door and entering the ice-cream parlour.

Dick followed after him, still grinning. "Like I keep telling you, trolling is an art form."

"Sure, Dick, whatever you say," Jason replied, taking in their surroundings as they approached the counter.

Unsurprisingly, Inside Scoop was quiet. Mrs. Tanner, the old lady who came there every afternoon, was in her usual corner with her usual tea and cake. The tiny Yorkshire terrier that normally accompanied her and snoozed in her handbag was awake for once, sitting on the seat beside her with its ears alert and its beady little eyes glued to the only other occupant there; a man sitting by the counter, nursing a cup of coffee.

"Looks like you're the only person crazy enough to want ice-cream in this weather," Jason told Dick as they reached the counter.

"Or the only one brave enough!" Dick challenged.

Jason chuckled. "Nice try but I'm still not going there…Hi," he added to Mr. Ferretti, the owner of Inside Scoop_,_ as the man came through the swinging doors from the kitchen and started at the sight of Jason and Dick.

"You...are having ice-cream…today?" he asked, slightly flustered.

"_I'm_ going to have coffee and apple-pie," Jason corrected him. "Only Dick is insane enough to eat frozen dairy produce in this cold. The usual?" he added, glancing down at the boy.

Dick nodded. "Please. Hi, Mr. Ferretti. Merry Christmas."

The man still looked startled. "Oh...Merry Christmas, Dick."

The normally cheerful Italian seemed a little on edge; Jason had never heard him call Dick by his name before – it was usually _Piccolo_ or something equally affectionate.

Dick had obviously noticed something as well. He tilted his head and looked up at the man. "Are you okay, Mr. Ferretti?"

"Just fine, little one," he said in a hurried voice. "Please, sit down! I'll bring your order, eh?"

They nodded and retreated to a corner booth, shedding their jackets once seated.

"You think he's okay?" Dick asked, watching the man re-enter the kitchen.

"I'm sure he's fine." Jason shrugged. "Probably fighting with his wife again or something."

Dick grimaced. "Yeesh, I hope that means we don't have to witness another throwdown!"

Jason laughed. Mr. and Mrs. Ferretti were stereotypical Italians: passionate, argumentative and full of life. They often argued loudly in front of customers, only to forget about the dispute five minutes later and behave like love-struck newlyweds. Just a few weeks ago, Dick and Jason had witnessed a rather fearsome domestic that had involved Mrs. Ferretti leveraging a plate of pie into Mr. Ferretti's face.

"I doubt it," Jason replied, grinning at the thought. He found the couple highly amusing. "She's not even here."

Mr. Ferretti reappeared a minute later with a coffee for Jason and a soda for Dick. "Ice-cream and pie are coming," he mumbled, placing their drinks on the table. His hand shook slightly and he spilled some of the coffee into the saucer. "Sorry! Sorry! I get napkin!"

"It's fine," Jason reassured him. "It's just coffee. Don't worry about it, Mr. Ferretti."

The man retreated, blushing and mumbling apologies.

"Wow, it must have been a bad fight," Dick commented, reaching for his soda and taking a large gulp. "I've never seen him like that."

Jason nodded as he added sugar to his coffee and took a sip. The Italian's behaviour was a little strange; Jason was beginning to suspect that it was more than a fight with his wife that was bothering the man.

He leaned back in his seat and looked across the table at Dick, who was now drinking his soda through a straw, his brow furrowed.

"You look pretty serious, Kid," Jason commented. "Something on your mind?"

Dick shrugged. "Just thinking that I'd like to do some..._stuff_ with my friends now that Christmas vacation is here."

Jason knew at once that he was talking about the young justice team. While Dick was healing, he had missed out on quite a few missions with his friends and although he hadn't said anything, Jason was aware of just how much that bothered him.

"Don't you want to spend Christmas relaxing?" Jason asked. He would never admit it to Dick, especially after promising to dial down the mother hen act when he was Robin, but he wasn't all that thrilled about him starting back with the junior Justice League. Unsupervised missions with a bunch of super-powered teenagers who were all much bigger than Robin? Jason hid a scowl. _Let me count the ways that could go wrong_.

"Trust me, Jay, I spent enough of the last few months _relaxing_," Dick grumbled. "I need some action."

"Nothing wrong with relaxing," Jason pointed out, sipping his coffee.

"Says the guy who's probably never taken a vacation in his life!"

Mr. Ferretti arrived back at the table with their desserts. "Bon appétit!" he told them, a little too vehemently.

"Thanks, Mr. Ferretti," said Dick, smiling up at him.

The man gave him an anxious little nod and scampered back to the kitchen once more.

Jason stared after him with a frown. The Italian's behaviour was beginning to make him a little uncomfortable. And why did that man at the counter keep checking them out?

When Mr. Ferretti had dropped their drinks over, Jason had noticed the man at the counter giving them quick surreptitious glances. He had thought nothing of it until the man continued to do it when he thought Jason wasn't watching. And after Mr. Ferretti had delivered their food, his eyes had followed the Italian the whole way back to the kitchen.

The hackles on the back of Jason's neck stood up and he felt something uncomfortable squirm in the pit of his stomach. Was this place about to get hit?

He turned back to voice his suspicions to Dick, only to find the boy staring at the table while his hands gripped the edge tightly.

"What's wrong?" Jason asked.

Dick looked up at him and blinked. Twice. "I don't know. I feel really funny all of a sudden...kind of dizzy."

Alarm bells blared in Jason's head and he dropped the cup of half-finished coffee back into the saucer with a loud crack. "We're leaving. Now!" He got to his feet and the world listed sideways.

_Shit!_ he thought, grabbing at the table. _Shit! Shit! Shit!_

Clinging tightly to the table, Jason moved to the other side and grabbed Dick's arm. "Time to go, Dick."

"Wha?" Dick mumbled, looking up at Jason in confusion.

"Come on, Kiddo," Jason said urgently, tugging at his arm. "We need to get out of here!"

But Dick seemed to be sliding further down the leather seat, his eyes rolling back in his head.

_Oh fuck, no! No! No! No!_ Jason thought frantically, hooking his arm across Dick's chest and pulling the boy towards him.

He almost dropped Dick when the room started to spin and had to throw a hand out to stop himself from collapsing on the boy. Half-crouched over Dick, Jason turned to see a terrified Mr. Ferretti staring at them with wide eyes from where he stood by the kitchen door.

"Wha…the fuck did you…give us?" Jason rasped, his voice slurred.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" the man cried. "I had no choice! They made me – please forgive me!"

Two men exited the kitchen behind him and shoved Mr. Ferretti out of the way. Jason's blood ran cold when they moved towards them. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just make out the man at the counter slipping off his high stool and going to the store entrance which he locked. He then proceeded to draw the shades on the window.

Jason staggered to his feet, trying to fight against the pitching of the room that was threatening to knock him off his feet, and planted himself in front of Dick. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear the little Yorkie starting to bark.

Blinking, he shook his head, desperately trying to clear his sea-sawing vision. As the first man came within range, Jason swung quickly and his fist connected with the man's jaw, sending him reeling. The second man stopped and hesitated, which Jason used as an opportunity to deliver a lethal kick to the man's leg, causing him to drop like a stone. Bunching his fists, Jason then turned to face the man from the counter who was now approaching, but the man remained at a safe distance.

"Get out of the way," he ordered.

Jason blinked several times, trying to focus. "No!" he snapped, his whole body poised in rigid offence. "You're not touching him!"

The man smirked. "Really? You think you have a choice in this? There were enough drugs in that coffee to make Fat Albert pass out! I don't care how tough you are, Todd, those drugs will have you on your ass in just a few more minutes...and then the kid is coming with us."

"Over my dead body!" Jason snarled.

"That can be arranged," the man told him coldly.

Without warning, the three men rushed him and Jason found himself fighting a desperate battle to keep them back.

If he had been at full strength, Jason could have taken these guys out with relatively little trouble. But whatever they had dosed him with was coursing through his veins, making him see double and turning his limbs to jelly. He was barely able to remain upright, much less fight off three attackers.

Suddenly, something hard smashed into the back of his skull, creating an explosion of pain and turning his world red. A second blow to the head took him to his knees, where he swayed for several seconds. Blearily, Jason looked up just in time to see one of the men lifting Dick's limp form out of the booth.

"Noooo!" he moaned and tried to get up.

A third hit cracked off his skull and stars exploded behind his eyes. It was the last thing Jason saw before he crumpled into darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Big warning for swearing here, Peeps, Jason's language is ATROCIOUS in this chapter!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, your comments and feedback really made me smile. :)

oOo

Pain. That was the first thing that Jason became aware of. Loud, obnoxious pain pounding through his head. The second thing was the sensation of someone touching him; he could feel fingers on his wrist.

Immediately, Jason reacted, grabbing the hand and throwing out his fist. It connected with something solid and there was a cry of pain. His eyes flew open and he moved to get up, only for the world to spin violently.

Groaning and feeling like he might puke, Jason put a hand to his head. His fingers met something wet. _What the hell?_

"Jason," Bruce's voice sounded somewhere nearby.

This time he was slower in opening his eyes, blinking until the spinning room slowed to a halt. Bruce's concerned face came into view just above him.

Jason groaned. Christ, his head hurt. "Bruce," he managed, his voice raspy.

"Easy, Jason," Bruce responded. "Try not to move."

"The…hell 'm I doin' on the floor?" he asked, his gaze going to the two paramedics kneeling on either side of him. The male paramedic was holding a tissue to his lip, which was bleeding. Jason wondered briefly if that was a result of his fist before attempting to sit up.

"Sir, you need to lie still," the woman said, stopping him by putting a hand on his chest. "You may have– "

"Fuckin' lemme up!" Jason growled at her, rolling onto his left side and using his elbow to prop himself up. The world started to spin again and he gritted his teeth against the pain in his head.

This time it was the male paramedic who intervened, trying to push him back down. "Sir, please! You've taken a terrible– "

"Back off or I'll puke on you!" Jason ground out. He wasn't sure what was going on but he knew he wanted to get up off this floor.

The man held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, allowing Jason to struggle to a sitting position. Something wet trickled down the side of his face and he raised a shaking hand towards it. His fingers came away red.

"Why 'm I bleedin'?" Jason demanded, his voice sounding thin, reedy. "What's goin' on? And get that thing outta my face!" he snapped at the male paramedic who was now trying to shine a light in his eyes.

The man dropped his hands and looked up at Bruce in exasperation.

"Jason, let them look at you," the billionaire ordered.

"Not until someone tells me what the fuck is going on!" Jason didn't know why he was on the damn floor, or why his head felt like it was about to burst_. _He squinted around the still tilting room, taking in the white tiled floor and red booths; this was Inside Scoop. But why was the place filled with cops?

He glanced back at Bruce, who was now crouched beside him, his face pinched with worry…and the memory of what happened hit Jason full force. He twisted back to look at the booth he'd been sitting in with Dick.

The boy was gone.

"Oh God, no!" he moaned, turning back to Bruce. "They took him, Bruce, they _took_ him!" He tried to get up but flopped sideways instead.

Bruce caught him before he hit the floor. "Jason, take it easy! You're hurt."

But Jason wasn't listening. Ignoring the explosions of pain going off inside his head, he clutched frantically at Bruce's arm. "They knew we'd be here! They _knew_! They were here before us – those _fuckers_!"

Bruce winced at his language. "Jason, you need to calm down."

"Don't tell me to–" Jason's eyes landed on Mr. Ferretti, standing a few feet away talking to a police officer. Rage filled him. "YOU!" he roared at the man, pulling away from Bruce and trying to get to his feet but making the world rock around him instead. "You son of a bitch! You were in on this, you _drugged_ us!"

Jason reached for the nearby table to pull himself up while one hand jabbed in Mr. Ferretti's direction. "How could you do this to him? He trusted you! I swear to God, I'll wring your fucking neck when I get my hands on you!"

"_Jason! Enough_!" Bruce's tone was sharp. "Mr. Ferretti had no choice; the men took his family hostage. They had his wife and daughter in the kitchen the whole time you were out here."

"What?" Jason stopped mid-pull, remaining only half-upright. He had just realized that his legs weren't going to support him.

"Si, it's true, Signore!" said Mr. Ferretti desperately, coming towards them with his hands held out plaintively. "They had Marie and my little Lucia!"

Jason's eyes went to where the plump Italian woman stood with her arms clamped tight around their ten-year-old daughter.

"I would never have hurt little Dickie but for those men, never!" Mr. Ferretti implored.

Jason looked away from the man's guilty expression. Fuck. Now he had no one to direct his anger at.

And he was in dire need of an outlet. Jason felt sick as rage, fear and hot white panic churned inside him. Dick was gone, taken, and he'd been pathetically unable to stop it.

"Dammit," Jason whispered, slumping to his knees. He closed his eyes, bringing one hand to his forehead.

"Jason?" Bruce put a hand on his shoulder.

Jason glanced at him, his expression wretched. "I was right there, Bruce – _right there_! I should have stopped them!"

"In no way was this your fault," Bruce told him firmly. "You were drugged. Not to mention that crack to the head." He paused and squeezed his shoulder before entreating in a softer voice, "Jason, please let the paramedics look at you."

Reluctantly, Jason conceded, allowing Bruce to help him to a chair. He felt worn out and ragged, like his nerves were hanging on by a thread.

It was with some trepidation that the paramedics approached him. Jason saw them exchange nervous glances. "Its fine," he told them wearily. "Let's just get this over with." His head was killing him and he still felt like he might puke.

They relaxed slightly and complied, although Jason had to force himself to remain still and not snap at them while they examined him. "What happened?" he asked Bruce, trying to ignore the paramedics. He wasn't a big fan of people touching him; Dick – and Bruce to a certain extent – was the exception.

"They took Dick out the back after knocking you out," Bruce answered, his expression dark. "That was how they entered, through the kitchen. According to Mr. Ferretti, they arrived about ten minutes before you did. They took him and his family hostage, made him switch off all the security cameras, and warned him that as soon as you and Dick came in, he was to drug you or they'd kill his wife and child…The man really had no choice, Jason." Bruce sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as Jason.

"We have no pictures of them?" Jason's heart started to beat a little faster. "Bruce, I can't remember what they looked like!" Jason felt like he might lose it; he _never_ forgot a face. So why was it that now, when it really mattered, he could only visualize three blurs?

"It's probably because of the blow to the head and whatever they drugged you with," the female paramedic pointed out gently. "Your memory might return, but don't worry if it doesn't; there were other witnesses."

Other witnesses, right. Jason gave a snort as he exchanged glances with Bruce; they both knew a traumatized family may not be the most reliable of witnesses. As for the other witness…

Mrs. Tanner was still in her corner booth, clearly in shock with her little dog clutched to her chest. A police officer was speaking quietly to her. Jason swallowed miserably. She'd been so frightened during the kidnapping that she hadn't even screamed; he doubted she'd be able to remember how many men there were, much less identify them.

"So what do we do now?" Jason asked Bruce.

"_We_ don't do anything. I will go home and wait for them to call. You will go to the hospital."

"The hell I will! I don't need the hospital!"

"Oh yes, you do," the female paramedic told him. Jason realized her partner was gone. "Your eyes aren't focusing and your head is still bleeding."

"So?!" Jason spat.

"You need a CT scan and–"

"I don't need anything except to find Dick!" Jason told her, attempting to stand and crashing back onto the chair.

"Jason, go to the hospital," Bruce told him wearily. "This is hard enough without having to worry about you too."

"You don't need to worry about me!" Jason insisted. "I'm not– oh, hell no!" His protestations were interrupted by the reappearance of the male paramedic and a gurney. Jason scowled at the man as he approached. "You try to make me get on that thing and we have a problem!"

"Okay, let's just drop this tough guy act!" the man snapped, surprising him. "I get that you're worried but this is helping no one – least of all the kid that's just been kidnapped."

Jason glared at him. He had no response because deep down, he knew the man was right. But he didn't know what else to do. He was panicking and scared, and the only way Jason knew how to deal with fear was to lash out.

"Jason, _please_ go to the hospital," said Bruce, his hand on his shoulder once more. "If you won't do it for me then do it for Dick. He'd be miserable if anything happened to you."

Jason gave Bruce an irritated glare. The man knew _exactly_ what to say to make him go. "Okay, fine! But, Bruce, as soon as you know something…"

"I will keep you updated on everything that happens," Bruce promised, helping him to his feet.

"You'd better or– I'm still not getting on that thing," Jason snapped at the male paramedic who came forward with the gurney.

The man rolled his eyes and sighed.

oOo

Bruce stood before the blazing fire, staring into the flames. He couldn't bring himself to turn around and face the Christmas tree. It was too painful a reminder that Dick wasn't here.

The billionaire wished he could take the damn thing down, but he knew Dick would be upset if he returned home and it wasn't there. No, not if, _when_. As soon as these men made their demands, they could have whatever the hell they wanted and Dick would be home safe. That was how these things worked. But that knowledge didn't make this any easier to deal with; Bruce was only too aware of the many things that could go wrong. Why was it these bastards always knew exactly who was most precious to him?

"Mr. Wayne?" said a voice behind him and he turned to find Jim Gordon standing there.

_Alfred must have let him in._ "Commissioner, any word?"

The officer shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne. There were no cameras to the back of the store to tell us what the men looked like, or what direction they went."

"What about fingerprints?" he asked anxiously.

"Nothing. They wore gloves, which matches what the Ferrettis told us."

Bruce turned back to the fire to hide the pain on his face. "So I have no choice but to wait until they contact me."

"I'm sorry."

Bruce swallowed and clenched his fists. Oh, how he hated this hell! He couldn't believe he had to endure it again so soon after Joker. Sometimes life really wasn't fair.

"Mr. Wayne, I wanted to talk to you about something."

The Commissioner's voice sounded serious and Bruce faced him, raising an enquiring eyebrow. "Yes?"

The officer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know if it's occurred to you, but those men arrived at Inside Scoop before Dick and Jason. They were waiting for them – they knew Dick was going to be there."

Bruce nodded. "I know. Jason said the same thing when he regained consciousness."

"That means someone must have tipped them off. Did Jason tell anyone where he was taking Dick?"

Bruce shook his head. "No. Jason is very careful about security. He never tells anyone except me and Alfred where he's taking Dick."

"But if Jason didn't tell anyone where they were going to be, then how did the kidnappers know where they were going to be? We checked Jason's car, there were no bugs."

Bruce frowned at him. He had a feeling he knew where the Commissioner was going with this. "What are you trying to say, Jim?"

The officer looked uncomfortable. "Mr. Wayne, have you considered the possibility that Jason may be the one behind this?"

"He's not."

"How can you be so sure?" the officer persisted. "Mr. Wayne, he's only been working for you for a few months. What do you really know about him?"

"I know enough."

"Enough to trust him with Dick's safety?"

"Yes. Commissioner, I know that not knowing anything about Jason's past makes you suspicious of him, but I guarantee you, he is not behind this."

"If you say so." The officer looked unconvinced. "Where is he now?"

"The hospital. He has a concussion and they're keeping him overnight for observation. I had Alfred call to check on him."

The officer fixed him with a grim look. "You know, just because Jason was injured is no reason to believe that he isn't behind this."

Bruce sighed in frustration. He knew the other man was fond of Dick and concerned about his welfare, but he needed to make the officer understand that Jason was the last person in the world who would hurt him. "Jim, I know this is hard for you to understand, but Jason would sooner slit his own throat before letting any harm come to Dick. There is no one I trust more with his safety."

The officer sighed. "I just wish I knew why you trusted him so much."

The billionaire didn't answer; he couldn't tell Gordon why he trusted Jason so much – it involved too many secrets.

Bruce thought back to when Jason had arrived in their world as Red Hood; a damaged and violent individual who thought nothing of killing perceived criminals. And while Bruce knew that Jason would always have darkness in him – his violence was now tempered with humanity. Jason was a very different man to the one he had been, and Dick was the reason why. But if Bruce lived to be a hundred, he would never be able to explain just how Dick had wrought that change.

As one of the brightest minds of his generation, there were few things that Bruce didn't understand, but Jason's relationship with Dick was one of them. It was impossible to explain how a man who cared so little for most things could value one boy that he had only known for a short time so much. Bruce highly doubted that even Jason himself would be able to explain it. But then, Jason probably didn't even think about it. To Jason, Dick was important and that was it.

Bruce had been silently musing for several minutes before Commissioner Gordon spoke again. "Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce looked up. "I'm sorry, Commissioner, just thinking."

The man gave an understanding nod. "Since the kidnappers haven't contacted you, I'm going to return to PD and see if I can uncover anything else. I'll leave Officer Mahoney here to man the trap and trace. But if–"

Loud voices echoed from the hall, interrupting the officer and drawing near the living room. One of the voices was definitely Alfred; Bruce could hear the smooth English accent clearly. The other one sounded suspiciously like…

Bruce groaned inwardly as Jason appeared in the doorway, leaning slightly on Alfred who was arguing furiously with him.

"– such a reckless thing to do, Sir. Why, anything could have happened!"

Jason rolled his eyes. "Alfred, I'm fine, stop fussing!"

"Oh yes, you're the very picture of health," Alfred replied sarcastically, helping Jason into the living room.

"Jason." Bruce strode towards them. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in the hospital!"

The younger man shrugged. "Checked myself out. I'm not staying in a hospital where the nurses aren't even cute."

"That's not funny!" said Bruce sharply, taking his other arm and leading him towards a chair. "And please tell me you didn't drive here!"

"I caught a cab. Credit me with some sense," Jason retorted, sitting into the chair.

"Sense?" Bruce repeated. "When you discharged yourself from the hospital after a head injury? Jason, there's a reason the doctors wanted to keep you in for observation."

"You mean so they could keep waking me every few hours to ask stupid questions! That's nothing that you or Alfred can't do here."

"We're not qualified medical professionals," Bruce pointed out. "If there are complications–"

"There won't be any complications," Jason interrupted. "They've stitched me up and I've had all the damn scans done – they were clear. I'm fine, Bruce, I've got a hard head."

"You're telling me," Bruce retorted, frowning in concern at Jason.

"Whatever." Jason waved a hand impatiently. "Have the kidnappers contacted you?"

Bruce shook his head.

Jason's shoulders slumped. "Damn." Then he spied Commissioner Gordon standing just behind Bruce and Alfred. "Commissioner, have you found anything?" he demanded anxiously.

"I'm afraid not, Jason, these guys were professionals."

"Of course they were," Jason grumbled, his face dark as he ran a frustrated hand through his blood-matted hair. "Fuckers."

Bruce knew he was paying zero attention to the Police Chief scrutinizing him closely. "Jason, _stay_ in that chair while I walk the Commissioner out. Alfred, would you mind bringing him some tea?"

"Certainly, Sir. What about some restraints to ensure he remains in the chair?"

"Don't tempt me," Bruce muttered, giving Jason an exasperated look to which the younger man crossed his arms defensively.

"I'll stay in the damn chair!"

Somehow Bruce didn't believe that. "See that you do," he warned. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Jason, Alfred." Commissioner Gordon nodded to them both as he and Bruce left the room.

"I wish he had stayed in the hospital," Bruce sighed to the officer, walking towards the front door. "He's in no shape to have been released."

"Quite the tough guy," Gordon commented.

Bruce frowned. "He's not as tough as he thinks he is."

"Why did he check himself out?"

Bruce caught the suspicion in the other man's tone. "Not for the reasons you think. Jason is worried about Dick and waiting for news in the hospital would only drive him crazy."

The officer shrugged. "Guess I'll have to take your word for it."

They stopped at the front door. Bruce reached for the handle and started to open it. "Jim, I know it's hard for–" He stopped speaking abruptly and frowned. There was a man standing on the front steps, his hand raised as if to ring the bell. "Can I help you?" Bruce asked.

The man looked slightly startled. "Uh, yeah. I'm looking for Bruce Wayne?"

Bruce's frown deepened. "You've found him."

"Oh. Package for you, Mr. Wayne," the man told him, holding out a brown parcel.

Bruce went cold. He wasn't expecting any packages. Quickly, he grabbed the man's arm and pulled him into the well-lit hallway. "Who sent this?" he demanded.

"Hey!" cried the man indignantly. "What gives?!"

Bruce's grip tightened. "I asked you a question! Who sent this?"

"How am I supposed to know?" the man answered defensively. "Some dude."

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce could see Commissioner Gordon patting his pockets before pulling out some latex gloves. Quickly he snapped them on and reached for the package. "Give it to me," Gordon ordered.

The man obeyed, looking at the two of them as if they were insane. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but–"

"Be quiet!" Bruce growled and the man's jaw snapped shut. He looked utterly bewildered.

Commissioner Gordon walked over to the hall table and placed the parcel on it before opening it carefully. Something blue flashed through the wrappings.

"Jim, what is it?" Bruce asked anxiously, his heart starting to pound. He hadn't expected to be contacted this way.

Silently, the officer picked up the item and held it out: a blue blazer. Bruce felt something catch in his throat. It was Dick's school blazer. He stared at the item of clothing for several seconds before turning to the delivery man and shaking him hard. "Where did you get that? Who sent this?"

"Get your hands off me!" the man yelled, bringing his lower arms upwards and then shoving them sideways to break Bruce's hold. "Are you crazy?!"

"I'd answer him if I were you," said Commissioner Gordon, joining them once more. "Whoever sent this kidnapped his son."

The delivery man's eyes went wide with shock.

"Jim, what's that?" Bruce asked, pointing at a sheet of paper in the officer's left hand. Dick's blazer had been placed back on the brown paper.

"Ransom note," he answered, holding it out so Bruce could see.

The billionaire felt like he'd been socked in the stomach. A Polaroid photograph of Dick, blindfolded and lying on a cement floor was attached to the top of the page. Large black letters beneath it read: _Ten million before nine a.m. on Wednesday morning or the kid is dead. We'll be in touch._ There was an account number at the bottom of the page.

Bruce couldn't take his eyes from the photo of Dick. His heart was pounding. We'll be in touch? What the hell was that supposed to mean? And if they didn't contact him by phone, how was Bruce supposed to know Dick was even alive?

"What's going on?" Jason's voice demanded suddenly.

Bruce glanced back to where Jason and Alfred were now standing, obviously drawn by the loud voices. "The kidnappers have made contact," Bruce answered, turning to face the delivery man once more. "Who. Sent. This?" he ground out, giving the man his deadliest glare.

The man shrank back. "Just some guy! I was in the middle of a run when the depot called and sent me to do a pick up from 520 Rupert Street. I got there and some guy was standing outside with the package. He gave me this address and paid cash, that's all I know! I swear!"

Jason came towards them, his gait unsteady. Bruce saw him clench his fist when he glanced at the paper in Gordon's hand. "What did this guy look like?" Jason demanded, glaring at the delivery man.

"I don't know," the man replied. "Tall, dark hair…ordinary."

"That's not a description!" Jason snapped, stepping towards him.

"But I don't remember!" the man cried, looking scared now.

"Then you wrack that tiny little brain of yours until you do remember!" Jason jabbed a finger into the man's chest.

"Easy, Jason." Commissioner Gordon gave him a strange look. "We have forensic artists that have ways of helping him to remember.

"Can they help me?" Jason asked urgently, turning his attention to the officer. "Every time I try to remember what they look like, all I can see are fucking blurs!"

"They can try." Gordon returned to the hall table and placed the letter alongside the blazer. "Don't touch those," he warned, pulling out his cell phone. "I'm calling in a forensics team." He glanced back at the delivery man. "And you might want to call your employer; you won't be leaving here anytime soon."

oOo

The first thing that occurred to Dick was that he was really, really cold. The second was that he was lying on something hard. Slowly, the boy opened his eyes, blinking when his vision met nothing but dark. "What…?" he mumbled, reaching up. A hand seized his wrist.

"I wouldn't do that," a harsh voice warned.

Immediately, Dick reacted. He rolled to his knees and slammed the heel of his free hand in the direction of the voice. It connected with something and there was a loud crack and a cry of pain. The hand released his wrist and he lurched to his feet only to have someone slam into him from behind, tackling him to the ground. His hands were twisted up behind his back.

"You little shit!" the man pinning him in place snarled, and a hand grabbed his hair. "Has Todd been teaching you moves?! Maybe I should show you some of mine?"

"No!" Another voice cracked like a whip. "No injuries unless necessary. We don't want Wayne thinking we'll kill the kid, not until he ponies up."

_Wayne? He's talking about Bruce!_ Dick realized. Whatever was going on here, it had nothing to do with Robin and he would have to act accordingly. Dick Grayson wasn't supposed to know moves like that.

Dick allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, stiffening when footsteps came towards him. He was blindfolded, something he hated; having to rely on sound made him feel a lot more vulnerable.

"Where'd you learn that move?" a cold voice demanded from somewhere in front of him.

Dick seized on the excuse they had already given him. "Jason has been teaching me self-defense."

There was a snort of laughter. "Has he now? Well, learn this one, Kid: try another stunt like that and I'll break your arm!"

Dick nodded, then shivered. He was _freezing_.

"Get the phone," the cold voice ordered. "It's time to call Daddy dearest."

A ransom call. Now Dick had an idea of what was going on. His forehead crinkled as he tried to remember what had happened. After several seconds of wracking his brain, scattered images of Inside Scoop floated back to him and Dick froze. Jason had been there with him. What had happened to Jason?

"Where's Jason?" he asked aloud. "Did you hurt him?"

A bark of laughter erupted in front of him. "You hear this kid?" There was a _whoosh_ and Dick sensed a face very close to his own. "Don't question me, Brat. I don't like kids – and I like spoilt little rich ones even less!"

A set of footsteps came towards them. "Here," a third voice spoke.

"Good," the cold voice that seemed to be in charge replied. "What's Wayne's cell phone number?"

Dick blinked. Bruce's cell number? Was he talking to him?

A hand seized his throat. "Don't try and pretend you don't know! Little math genius like you?"

Dick was confused. "But I wasn't–"

The hand squeezed tighter. "Spit it out!"

Dick hurriedly recited Bruce's number. This man was impatient with a short fuse – a bad combination.

"Good boy," the voice sneered condescendingly and the hand released his throat. It was several seconds before the voice spoke again. "Hello, Mr. Wayne. Did you get my package?"

Dick frowned. _What package?_

"Good. You have our instructions so if you want your little boy home on time for Christmas then follow them." There was silence for several seconds until the man laughed. "I thought you might say that."

Dick found himself being shoved forward and a phone was placed in his hands. "Say hi to Daddy, Kid."

Dick raised the phone to his ear. "Bruce?"

"Dick, oh, thank God!" the relieved voice of his guardian sounded on the line. "Are you alright? They haven't hurt you, have they?"

"No, I'm fine. Bruce, is Jason okay? He was with me…"

"Jason is fine, just a bump on the head," Bruce reassured him. "He's standing beside me right now."

Dick could hear Jason's voice in the background and relief coursed through him; he had been afraid of Jason being hurt. Before Dick could speak again, the phone was snatched from his hands and two large hands clamped down on his shoulders, yanking him backwards.

"Time's up!" the cold voice spat. "Nine a.m. tomorrow, Wayne, or I'll mail your kid back to you in pieces!"

"Think he'll do it?" the man behind Dick asked.

"Oh, he'll pay alright," said the man who had spoken to Bruce.

Dick shivered again and wrapped his arms around himself, realizing for the first time that his blazer was gone. _No wonder I'm so cold_, he thought, rubbing at the arms of his thin shirt.

"So what now?" asked the third kidnapper from somewhere to Dick's right.

"Bring the kid over here," ordered the man in charge and Dick found himself being pushed forwards by the massive hands on his shoulders. After a few steps, he was pulled to a halt.

Dick waited, expecting to feel ropes restraining him and was surprised to hear the clinking of glass followed by the sound of liquid being poured. Then a glass was pushed into his hand.

"Drink!" the cold voice ordered.

Dick's heart started to beat a little faster. More drugs. Why couldn't they just tie him up? They'd already dosed him once and he was nervous about a second; Dick had read stories of kidnap victims OD'ing because their captors kept subduing them with drugs.

Much as he hated to admit it, Dick knew he was small – he weighed less than ninety pounds – meaning the average dose for someone else was a lethal amount for him. But he highly doubted that these men would take that into consideration.

"Did that _sound_ like a suggestion?" the cold voice snarled at him in low, dangerous tones when he hesitated.

Dick swallowed. "Couldn't…couldn't you just tie me up?" he ventured. He knew he was treading on thin ice but he had to try. He could _smell_ whatever they had put in the glass.

"Drink. The fucking. Soda," the man ordered, seizing Dick's wrist and forcing the glass to his lips.

Up close, the smell made Dick gag and he turned his head away. It was an instinctive reaction, not an act of resistance, but the man took it as such and snapped.

"I've had just about enough of you!" he hissed, snatching the glass from Dick.

Before the boy could explain, a strong hand seized his jaw and forced his mouth open, then the glass was smashed against his lips and teeth.

"Mmpfh!" Dick cried out, as liquid dribbled onto his shirt. His head was pushed back and the foul tasting drink was poured into his mouth, causing him to splutter and cough. He brought his left hand up and pushed the glass away. "Stop, I'll drink it!" he gasped.

Unfortunately for Dick, he shoved at the glass too hard, spilling its contents down his sleeve and knocking the glass from the man's hand. The boy froze when he heard the glass shatter on the floor.

"_You little shit_!" the man roared. A hand grabbed the front of Dick's shirt and another seized his left wrist where it had frozen, suspended in midair.

"I'm sorry!" Dick said quickly. "It was an accident! I'll drink the next one, I promise!"

"Damn straight you'll–" the man stopped speaking and Dick felt his left arm being yanked upwards. Several seconds later, the hand holding the front of his shirt let go and fingers poked at his left forearm. The wet shirt felt cold where it brushed against his skin.

"Boss, what's wrong?" the kidnapper behind Dick asked.

The other man didn't answer. Without warning, the buttons on Dick's shirt sleeve were ripped open and the sleeve was shoved down his arm.

Dick swallowed hard as his arm was pulled towards the man in front of him. The grip on his wrist and just above his elbow tightened painfully.

"What's that?" asked the third man. "A tattoo?"

Dick's heart started to pound. He knew what they were looking at; the awful image of Batman that Joker had carved into his arm back in September. When his white shirt had gotten wet, it must have revealed the glaring red scars beneath.

"Where did you get this?" the cold voice demanded.

Dick's mouth went dry. "I…It…"

The man dropped his left arm and seized his right one, ripping open those buttons as well and pulling back the material. Dick started to shake a little as he sensed the men staring at the name Joker etched into his skin.

The man behind him gave a snort of disgust. "That your doing, Kid? You some freaky little Goth or something that likes to cut himself?"

Dick dropped his head and his face burned. Like he would _ever_ do that to himself!

"I don't think so," said the cold voice and there was something dangerous in his tone. "See the way that name is done? Someone did that to him, some clown…didn't he, _Dick_?"

Dick's head shot up and he almost stopped breathing. _He knows!_

Before the boy could react, the man slammed a hard fist into his face and drove a sharp knee into his stomach. As Dick gasped and lurched forward, a brutal elbow smashed into the back of his neck sending him crashing to the floor.

Stunned, Dick moved to get onto his knees but someone jumped on him and smashed his face into the floor, then seized his wrists and pulled his hands up behind his back until his fingers brushed his shoulder blades.

"Boss?! What the hell are you doing?" one of the men cried.

"Get me some rope now!" the leader snapped in response. "And bring me a baggie from the new shipment!"

"The new shipment?" the other man repeated, sounding confused. "But, Boss–"

"_Now!_" the man ordered.

Dick could hear two sets of footsteps moving away. "What…are you doing?" he gasped, the man's weight crushing him.

"Todd's been teaching you self-defense, has he?" the man whispered in his ear. "Don't make me laugh! I didn't think it was possible for a spoiled rich brat to get more valuable but you've just proven me wrong…_Robin_."

Dick jerked, trying to either throw the man off or pull his arms out of the vice-like grip.

The man responded by twisting his arms higher and making him cry out in pain. "I will break your fucking arms if you try it," he hissed in Dick's ear. "I'm not going to underestimate you, Kid, so be smart and_ don't_ underestimate me!"

A set of footsteps returned. "Here's the rope, Boss."

Dick felt his wrists being crossed over one another.

"Bind his hands," the cold voice ordered and Dick felt rope being wound securely around his wrists.

"Tighter!" the man pinning him to the floor ordered. Dick felt rope twist as the other man complied.

"Tighter!" the leader ordered again, and Dick gritted his teeth when the twine was pulled so hard it cut into his wrists.

A second set of footsteps approached as the man finished securing Dick's hands. "I have it. Boss, are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure!" the man snapped.

Dick was rolled onto his back, wincing as his pinned arms twisted painfully beneath him and the glass scattered about the floor cut into him.

"Get behind the kid," the man still straddling him snapped. "And give me that!"

Dick's heart thudded in fear as strong hands grabbed his upper arms and pulled him up until he was sitting upright, while the man pinning him shuffled downwards until he was straddling Dick's legs. A large body positioned itself behind him and muscular arms wrapped around his chest.

"Boss, I'm not so sure about this," the deep voice of the man behind him spoke and Dick felt the hum of his voice reverberate through him. "He's just a kid."

"A kid who pissed me off!" the man snapped. "Do it!"

Without warning, the arms around Dick's chest moved upwards; one hand clamped tightly across his mouth, pulling his head firmly against the man's chest, while the other hand pinched his nostrils closed.

Dick's eyes widened behind the blindfold; he couldn't breathe! Were they trying to kill him?! Desperately, he struggled, trying to move his head from side to side in an effort to break away from the hands across his face, but the man kept a viciously tight hold on him.

The seconds ticked past and Dick could hear the frantic, muffled sounds he was making behind the hand while his chest pitched and heaved as his lungs strained to breathe.

_What are you doing? Let me go!_ he pleaded silently with the men. _I can't breathe!_

Were they really going to kill him like this? Dick could feel his head start to pound and his heart hammered against his chest. This wasn't fair! After everything that had happened with Joker, why was he being made to suffer like this again? It just wasn't _fair_!

He was on the verge of passing out when the hand pinching his nostrils together was removed. Frantically, Dick sucked in air…but instead of the oxygen he expected, a burning sensation filled his nasal cavity and an awful, metallic taste swelled in his throat. He choked and his eyes started to water.

_Oh God, what did they give me? _

"Again," the man in charge ordered and Dick found himself once more the victim of rough hands clamping down on his mouth and nose. But this time, the lack of air was accompanied by a terrible pain within his head and nose; it felt like they were burning from the inside out.

"Boss, I think this is too much," the third man commented from somewhere to the left. "That stuff is strong."

"Exactly," retorted the man straddling Dick's legs. "He's going to be so out of it for the next few hours that he won't be able to even _think_ about giving us trouble!"

Dick gave a choked, frantic sound behind the hands preventing him from breathing. He was already starting to feel the effects of whatever that stuff was, he didn't want to take anymore!

Somewhere in his panicked thoughts it occurred to him that only the leader had worked out that he was Robin, but he didn't seem to be sharing that information with the other two. Dick wondered what that meant for him.

His head started to pound again and the hand was pulled away from his nostrils. Dick tried not to breathe in, but it was a reflexive action and his body was begging for air; he couldn't stop himself from inhaling and the painful sensation of burning filled his nose once more.

The hand dropped from his mouth as he choked, and his eyes watered when the distressing burning in his head and nose increased. His body began to tingle and his head felt big. And even though he couldn't see the room around him, Dick knew it was starting to shrink. "What…what did you give…me?" he gasped, as shivers crawled up his spine.

One of the men said something to him but Dick didn't catch it; the man's voice sounded all wrong – like a voice recording that the batteries were dying on.

"What?" Dick asked, turning towards the voice only to discover that the men had disappeared. _Where did they go?_ he wondered. His head really hurt.

Multi-coloured lights started to flash and the room began to rotate. Dick wondered if this was some kind of club, although there didn't seem to be any music. Instead, there was laughter, cackling, evil laughter that bounced off the walls and echoed all around him. It sent cold shivers down his back. Dick wanted to press his hands to his ears to block the horrible laughter out but they seemed to have disappeared. He was just looking for his hands when a white cat strolled past and asked him for a cigarette, before vanishing into a hole in the ground at the root of a purple tree. Dick stared after it in befuddlement; he was certain cats weren't supposed to talk…right?

The eerie laughter sounded again; the hooting and chuckling making his blood run cold.

"Who's there?" he yelled. "Why are you laughing? _Stop laughing_!" There was something familiar about the laugh that sent cold spikes of terror to Dick's heart.

The room stopped rotating and started to vibrate, making the flashing lights sing. Dick gritted his teeth; he didn't like this, it made him feel sick. Voices started to talk to him, calling something that he didn't quite understand in mocking sing-song tones.

And then the floor became an ocean, pitching sideways and throwing him against something hard, before the ground opened up and swallowed him, dropping Dick into a cavernous, laughing black.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Yeah, Jason's language is still pretty bad in this chapter so, sorry about that. But on the bright side, he is kicking ass as Red Hood! :D

Also, quite a few people commented in reviews and PM's that I really beat up on Dick/Robin and asked me why. In response, I honestly have no idea. It's a sickness. And its also weird because I adore Robin/Dick. Can we just blame the plot bunnies? ;)

oOo

"Jason, wake up," called a voice from somewhere above him, disturbing him from his warm cocoon and making him twitch in annoyance.

_Get lost._ If this person was smart, he would go away.

No such luck. "Jason," the voice called again, louder and more insistent this time, accompanied by a slight shake of his shoulders.

_I will kill this asshole!_ Jason wrenched his eyes open and found Bruce standing over him. "Buh…Bruce?" he croaked. "What's wrong?"

"I'm checking up on you. Do you know what day it is?"

Jason groaned. "Tell me you didn't wake me at stupid o'clock just to ask what day it is!"

Bruce fixed him with a stern look. "You know how head injuries work, I have to do this. Now, what day is it?"

"Head injuries? What are you– Oh." Jason's heart sank as the nightmare events at Inside Scoop came back to him; Dick had been kidnapped. "It's Tuesday morning...I think. I'm not sure what time it is exactly."

"It's six a.m."

"So it is stupid o'clock." Jason sat up from where he'd been snoozing on the living room couch, raising an eyebrow when he discovered that someone had covered him with a blanket. "Any word?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Nothing." Bruce's expression was tight with worry. He walked over to the armchair by the fire and sat down.

_Dammit._ Jason ran a frustrated hand through his hair before studying Bruce's exhausted face. "Did you get _any_ sleep?"

Bruce shook his head.

_Figures._ Jason was a little surprised at himself for falling asleep; he would have thought that his fear for Dick's safety would have had him wearing a hole into the floor. Tilting his head from side to side to stretch out the kinks in his neck, Jason guessed the concussion was responsible for his conking out on the couch. He pushed the blanket off of his legs and swung his feet to the floor, stretching as he did so.

"How's your head?" Bruce asked, watching him.

Jason rubbed his head experimentally, wincing when he touched a sore spot to the back of his skull. At least he wasn't dizzy anymore. "I'll live."

"Do you need anything for pain?"

"Like I said, I'll live."

The older man looked sceptical. "Jason–"

"Bruce, I'm fine. Quit babying me!"

Bruce raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow.

"Sorry," said Jason quietly. "I'm just…on edge."

"I noticed," Bruce replied drily.

They lapsed into silence for several long minutes, staring into the flames dancing merrily in the fireplace. With the Christmas tree behind them, the room should have felt cosy – but without Dick it felt so cold and empty that it may as well have been Antarctica.

Jason's jaw clenched and he continued to stare into the fire, anger festering within. This was so unfair! It had only been three months since Joker's brutal assault on Robin. Why was the universe making them do this fucking dance of fear and worry again? Hadn't they all been through enough? Hadn't Dick _suffered_ enough?

"Oh screw this!" Jason threw his hands up. "Bruce, we can't just sit here. We should be out there, doing something!" His failure to protect Dick at Inside Scoop was eating him alive; it was supposed to be his job to protect him.

"I can't leave the phone in case they contact me," Bruce reminded him. "They indicated that they would in the note."

"So Batman is grounded, doesn't mean Red Hood is."

"Oh, yes, he is! Jason, you're in no condition to go jumping across rooftops."

Jason scowled. "Bruce, I already told you, I'm fine."

"You must think I'm an idiot if you expect me to believe that; a few hours ago, you could hardly stand."

"So? I can stand now!" Jason stood up to demonstrate his point.

"Getting up from a couch and flinging yourself across rooftops are not the same thing. No, I don't want to hear it," Bruce added, raising a finger as Jason opened his mouth to respond. "You'd only put yourself at risk if you went out there as Red Hood."

"And what about Dick?" Jason argued. "You think he's not at risk?"

"Don't presume to tell me what I already know about my own son!" Bruce snapped, getting to his feet and facing Jason with a furious look. "You think this is easy for me? To sit here and do nothing when I know he's out there, alone and in trouble? You aren't the only person who cares about Dick, Jason. He's _my_ son! I've spent the last four and a half years raising him and I'll be damned if I'll let you insinuate that I don't care about him just because I'm trying to look out for you as well!"

Jason took a step back. Aside from this being the first time he was the focus of Bruce's rage, it unsettled him deeply to think of the other man looking out for him. He was a grown ass man; he didn't _need_ anyone looking out for him!

He narrowed his eyes at Bruce. "I can take care of myself! And I never said that you don't care about Dick. But I do think it's fucking stupid not to let Red Hood get out there and look for him just because you think I might fall on my ass or something! I've had worse than this and it hasn't stopped me before."

"You're right." Bruce relaxed his rigid body stance and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, Jason, I didn't mean to snap."

Jason shrugged, relaxing his own defensive posture. "It's fine. We're both worried – gives us carte blanche to act like assholes."

Bruce gave him a tired smile. "Let's just try and rein it in, alright? It's not getting us anywhere and–" He stopped speaking as a tinny little noise erupted from his jacket pocket.

"Who the hell is calling you at this hour?" Jason demanded, staring as Bruce withdrew the phone from his jacket pocket.

"Unknown number," Bruce replied, staring at the screen. Quickly he raised the phone to his ear. "Hello?" he answered and his expression darkened.

Jason could tell instantly that it was the kidnappers.

"I received it," Bruce spoke in clipped tones to whoever was on the other end, and Jason could see him clench his fist tightly.

"You don't get anything until I talk to Dick!" Bruce snapped angrily. "Put him on right now!"

Quickly, Jason moved to stand beside Bruce and leaned in to listen, wanting to hear Dick's voice as well.

"Bruce?" a tinny miniature of Dick's voice sounded and Jason had to restrain himself from snatching the phone from the other man.

"Dick, oh, thank God!" Bruce put a hand to his heart. "Are you alright? They haven't hurt you, have they?"

"No, I'm fine. Bruce, is Jason okay? He was with me…"

A lump formed in Jason's throat. Typical Dick; he was the one who'd been kidnapped but he was more worried about Jason. The younger man tapped Bruce's arm. "Tell him I'm fine."

"Jason is fine, just a bump on the head," Bruce reassured Dick. "He's standing beside me right now."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

Bruce glanced at Jason. "Dick?"

"Time's up!" a harsh voice sounded suddenly. "Nine a.m. tomorrow, Wayne, or I'll mail your kid back to you in pieces!" The call disconnected.

Jason was still for several seconds before exploding. "That's IT? That was less than a minute! Those stupid sons of bitches!" Anger, fear, worry and panic were churning away inside him; Jason itched to put his fist through something. Trying to swallow his fear, he turned to Bruce. "They won't hurt him, will they?"

Bruce was staring into space, the phone still pressed to his ear.

Jason nudged him. "Bruce?"

The older man shook himself and lowered the phone. "I need to get to Wayne Enterprises."

"What! Why?"

"Lucius began pulling money from various banks and holdings after they sent that package yesterday," Bruce answered. "He's going to need my signature – and I need to get to Wayne Enterprises so I can get that money moved faster."

"The faster you move the money, the faster you get Dick home," Jason guessed.

"No." Bruce's expression was tight. "That account number they gave me yesterday is for an account in the Cayman Islands. An international wire transfer is going to take longer than they're giving me. I'm going to need to pull some serious strings to get the money through before nine a.m. tomorrow – especially three days before Christmas."

Jason's eyes widened in alarm. "Shit! Can you get it through on time?"

"Yes. But it'll be close."

"This makes no sense!" Jason complained. "Why give you so little time? Don't they want their stupid money?"

"Oh, they want it alright," said Bruce grimly. "They're just making it harder for the police to track them. And they're not worried about whether or not I can pull this off because they know if anyone can do it, I can."

"Bastards," Jason muttered under his breath, his fear and worry ratcheting several notches higher. "Bruce, I can't sit on my ass any longer, I'm going out there to look for Dick."

Bruce held out his cell phone. "Take this. See if you can track them using the number they just called me from."

Jason took the phone. "What if they contact you again?"

Bruce's expression was grim. "They won't. I have my orders and they expect me to follow them."

oOo

It was after one that afternoon when Jason arrived at Wayne Enterprises. His mood was so foul that people literally jumped out of his way as he stalked towards Bruce's office.

He had spent the last few hours trying to track the kidnappers with Bruce's cell phone without any luck. The number of the kidnappers' phone had been unregistered – they had used a disposable cell. Jason had managed to triangulate the location of the unregistered cell using satellites but the location turned out to be the inside of a trash can in Robinson Plaza. The disappointment had nearly sent him into a red rage.

After fishing the phone out of the trash, he had taken it back to the cave and dusted it for prints. To his utter frustration, the phone had been wiped clean. But it was when he hacked into the city security cameras to try and get an image of who had dropped the phone that his frustration really peaked; there were too many damn people in this city! All of them hurrying past one stupid trash can and throwing in their worthless crap.

"Is Bruce in his office?" Jason demanded, stopping at Bruce's secretary's desk.

She jerked a little. "Jason! Oh, um…yes, he is. Mr. Lee and Mr. Fox are with him. Are you alright? You don't look very well."

"I'm fine." Jason brushed off her concern. He only looked like crap because he still hadn't washed the blood out of his hair. "Later, Maggie." Not waiting for her to protest, he entered Bruce's office.

The billionaire was at his desk on a call while Thomas Lee and Lucius Fox watched anxiously from their chairs.

"I don't care how irregular this is," Bruce was saying. "I'm sure you understand that these are extenuating circumstances." He held a pen in his hand, pressing it into the paper on his desk with enough force to puncture a hole in the wood while he listened to the response. "Is that so? Mr. Roberts, let me assure you that our mutually beneficial partnership will end immediately if you cannot find the means to get that money there before tomorrow morning….No, I'm afraid an hour is unacceptable. You have thirty minutes to get back to me."

Bruce hung up the phone and looked at Jason, silently asking if he had anything.

Dejected and angry, Jason shook his head, putting Bruce's cell phone on his desk. "I take it you're having trouble with the money?"

"We've pulled the ten million from various holdings, but I have to get it wired before close of business today to ensure it shows in that damn bank account by morning. And it seems like half of the finance sector are on vacation. It's insane! Are they children? Christmas isn't for another three days!"

Bruce put his head in his hands.

"But there must be _something_ you can do!" Jason said desperately. "It can't be that hard just to transfer money!"

"It is if you want to do it for a large sum in less than twenty-four hours across international channels," Bruce replied. "But if I have to charter a private plane and fly to the damn islands to lodge the money then I'll do it!"

The phone on his desk rang suddenly and Bruce pounced on it. "Hello?" Some of the tension eased from his face. "Jensen, thank you for calling back….uh-huh….uh-huh….do you have a number?" Bruce scribbled furiously. "Jensen, thank you! I owe you big time….yes; I'll let you know….thanks."

He hung up and immediately began to dial another number. "Jensen knows someone in New York that he thinks can help," Bruce told them. "Hello! Can I speak with Andrew Wyle, please? This is Bruce Wayne." He frowned. "Do you know how long he will be? This is very urgent….Yes, I am….Yes, it is….I would appreciate that, thank you….yes, I'll hold." He put a hand over the mouthpiece. "He's in a meeting; she's going to see if she can pull him out."

They waited anxiously, the strained silence only broken by the ringing of another phone.

Thomas Lee pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and hurriedly silenced it. "Sorry," he apologized at once.

Bruce held his hand up in an _it's fine_ gesture, but Jason hardly noticed. He was staring at Thomas Lee. Something about the man sitting on the other side of Bruce's desk was triggering something in him, something that had been bothering him since Dick had been kidnapped; just who had sold them out to the kidnappers? Jason had told no one except Bruce where they were going.

But he had admitted to Lee that he was taking Dick out to celebrate the start of Christmas vacation, and that slimy little worm Justin had been right there when he did. Jason gave a sharp intake of breath. That son of a bitch! Jason would tear him apart if he was behind Dick's kidnapping.

"I've just remembered something," Jason announced loudly, then spun on his heel and marched out of the office without further explanation. He could fill Bruce in later.

Jason's heart was racing as he headed for the security room. He needed to confirm that Justin was behind this _before_ he broke his neck. _Goddamm idiot, Todd!_ he berated himself. _Why didn't you think of this sooner?_

_Maybe because you were concussed? _the annoying little voice of reason that popped into his head from time to time suggested.

_Shut up!_ Jason berated himself. He wasn't quite ready to let go of his guilty feelings just yet.

The two guards manning the security cameras jumped in surprise when Jason entered the security room – which was hardly surprising since Jason hadn't been in there since his first day at Wayne Enterprises. But that didn't mean that Jason was going to stand on ceremony now. "I need you to bring up the camera from the main hallway on level ten at two thirty yesterday afternoon," he ordered, approaching the younger guard.

The man looked confused. "Sir?"

"Are you an idiot?!" Jason snapped. "Do it now!"

Jerking around to face the computer screen, the man typed out several commands. "This is it," he offered nervously.

"Let it play," Jason commanded and the man hastily complied.

Jason watched himself approach Thomas Lee's office on the monitor and stick his head into the room. While he watched, he calculated that the time elapsed from when he had left that office until he and Dick had arrived at Inside Scoop had to be at least forty minutes. Jason knew that didn't give much time for anyone to set up a kidnapping, but if they were already prepared and just waiting on a signal…

_There!_

Jason scowled when he saw Justin leaving Lee's office less than three minutes later. He leaned on the table and pointed at the screen. "Where did he go next?"

"Uh…" The man's hands once more flew over the keypad. "He stopped in the lobby to make a phone call and then…" he continued to track Justin's movements "…he went back to his desk."

"How long was he on that call?" Jason demanded.

The man checked the video. "Approximately three minutes and thirty-nine seconds, Sir."

_That son of a bitch!_ Jason stared at the screen. Justin was definitely the one who had handed Dick over to the kidnappers. An old, familiar rage started to build inside Jason.

Red Hood was going to rip out Justin's eyes and force-feed them to him.

oOo

By the time Jason arrived at Lori Sanderson's apartment, he was in an exceptionally dangerous frame of mind.

A visit to HR had told him where Justin lived. Following a quick pit stop at his own apartment to pick up his costume and weapons, Jason had arrived at the shithole Justin called home. The dirty, ramshackle little flat was located in one of Gotham's more unsavoury areas, and Justin had done nothing to improve its décor; the whole place was littered with beer cans and empty pizza boxes.

There had been no sign of Justin though, and Jason had proceeded to rip the place apart in an effort to find some clue as to where he might be. Justin's location had revealed itself in the form of a photograph of Lori, the blond bimbo from Flash Harry's. Jason clenched a fist. He was beginning to suspect that Lori wasn't quite the bimbo she appeared to be.

Making sure to smash Justin's bedroom window as he exited the apartment via the fire escape, Jason's mood grew worse when he discovered that it was starting to snow. He may have been waiting for days to see the white stuff blanket Gotham, but why did it have to start now, when Dick was out there in nothing but a thin shirt and pants! Talk about lousy fucking timing.

Neither Lori nor Justin had been at Flash Harry's, but a quick chat with Lori's boss to the back of Flash Harry's had revealed not only her surname but where she lived. It had only taken Jason ten minutes on his motorcycle to get there.

It was snowing hard by the time Jason landed with a thump on the roof of Lori's apartment block, and the combination of cold and rage was making him clench his teeth so hard it hurt. Entering the building via the vents on the roof, Jason was careful not to let anyone see him as he slipped down to 7b – Lori's apartment – where he picked the lock and let himself in.

In direct contrast to Justin's place, Lori's was clean and brightly lit. Jason had to wonder what she was doing with a loser like Justin; she was a woman who liked power and money, and Justin had neither of those things. He was a gambling addict heavily in debt to a bunch of gangsters, and he lived in a craphole.

Jason made his way towards the bedroom from where some very familiar noises were emanating. Withdrawing his gun, he burst into the room, causing Lori to scream and Justin to swear.

Jason was too angry to be amused by the two sets of terrified eyes peering at him over the blankets. "Out of the bed, Lee, _now_," he snarled, keeping his voice two octaves lower than usual.

Justin hesitated. "I…uh…"

"Out. Now!" Jason barked. "I don't care how naked you are!"

Justin slid out from under the covers and Jason was mildly relieved to see he was wearing boxers. Despite his words, Justin naked was a view Jason really didn't want to see.

Justin stood with his hands in the air, trembling as Jason kept his gun pointed at him and came around the bed. "W-who are you?" he stammered. "Wha- what do you want?"

"Name's Red Hood," Jason answered. "Now tell me where the hell Dick Grayson is!"

Justin's jaw literally fell open. "How do you–?"

"Never mind how I know!" Jason shouted. "_Where _is he?"

"I…I don't know," Justin stammered.

"Wrong answer!" Jason smashed a fist into Justin's face, then grabbed him and threw him into the dresser where he crashed into the bottles arranged in a neat row, shattering them. Lori screamed as Jason picked him up again and kneed him in the stomach before dropping him to the ground.

"Where is he?" Jason ground out, standing over the gasping Justin.

"I'm telling you, I don't know!" Justin gasped, his lip bleeding.

Jason responded by grabbing his head and slamming it into the floor.

"I don't know, I swear!" Justin screamed, clutching at his head.

Jason dropped to his haunches and pointed his gun into Jason's crotch. "You called those men and told them where Jason Todd was taking Dick Grayson, so don't tell me that you don't know where he is! Now start talking before I start shooting body parts."

"I'm not lying," Justin moaned, looking like he might start sobbing at any minute. "I only called them to let them know the kid was on his way to the ice-cream place. I have no idea where they took him after that."

"Then you call them and– I don't think so, Princess!" Jason pulled out his second gun and aimed it at Lori, who had been trying to ease out from under the covers to make a run for it. "Get back in bed. Try to move again and I'll break your leg."

Lori immediately complied.

Jason looked back at Justin, who was trembling and whimpering. "Get out your phone and call your buddies."

"They're not my–"

"_Call them!_"

"I can't–"

Jason pistol-whipped Justin and something cracked. The man screamed and clutched at his jaw.

"Listen to me you piece of shit," said Jason in a low voice. "You have ten seconds to get your buddies on the phone or you'll spend the rest of your life singing soprano." He cocked the trigger of the gun that was aimed at Justin's crotch to emphasize his point.

"But I can't– NO! NO!" he screamed as Jason prepared to fire. "You don't understand; it's not me! I've been trying to get hold of them all day – they're not picking up!"

"So what you're basically telling me is that I have no reason to keep you alive?" Jason questioned, bringing his gun up to point at the sobbing man's temple.

"P-please don't kill me," Justin whimpered, holding his hands up in a gesture of prayer. "I'll do anything!"

"Right now the only thing that would save your pathetic, worthless carcass is to tell me where Dick Grayson is, or the men who have him."

"If you knew where the kid is, would you leave him alone?" Lori spoke up suddenly.

Slowly, Jason turned towards her. She was sitting up, clutching the bed sheets against herself. "Excuse me?" he asked in a dangerous voice. "You wanna repeat that?"

She raised her chin defiantly. "If you knew where the kid is, would you leave him alone?"

Jason stood up, his attention on her now. "But he doesn't know, does he?"

She bit her lip, her eyes going between Justin and Jason.

Jason moved closer to her. "Now, why would you ask me a question like that when he just said he doesn't know where the boy is?" He put one knee on the bed and pointed the gun in her face. "Want to tell me what you know, Princess?"

"What makes you think I know anything?"

"Call it a hunch." Jason pointed the gun directly into her nose, forcing the tip of it sideways. "But let me tell you this, Sweetheart, I have absolutely no problem beating the shit out of a woman."

She swallowed. "You work for Batman, right? Batman wouldn't–"

Jason let out a harsh laugh. "Newsflash, Princess; I'm _not _Batman." He leaned closer. "And I've killed for less than this."

"He's at the old crackerjack factory in the East village!" she cried quickly.

Immediately, Jason whirled and whacked Justin with the butt of his gun, knocking the man out cold. Then he dragged him back towards the bed and removed a pair of handcuffs from his jacket, chaining Justin to the iron bedstead.

He turned back to Lori, who was watching him warily. "You wouldn't."

Jason removed a second pair of cuffs. "Watch me."

She started to shriek as he restrained her, cuffing her wrists to the headboard. "What are you doing? You can't leave us like this!"

"It's not for long. The boys in blue should be here soon enough to cart you off to a nice, cold cell."

"At least let me get dressed first," she begged.

"I wouldn't worry, Princess," sneered Jason. "I doubt the cops will be interested in trash like you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I am _not_ trash!"

Jason leaned down close to her face. "You're right, you're not. You were involved in the kidnapping of an innocent kid…that makes you worse than trash." She flushed furiously as he straightened up. "Enjoy prison, Bitch."

Then Jason turned and left the room, stalking back in the direction he had come. _Hang on, Dick_, he thought. _I'm coming_.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, your comments and feedback were awesome! :)

oOo

The first thing that Jason did upon arriving at the old crackerjack factory in the East Village was to take out his cell phone and contact Commissioner Gordon. He stood on the roof of an empty warehouse situated just across from the factory, and studied it while he waited for Gordon to answer. Snow was falling heavily and the ground below was already white.

"Hello?" Gordon's voice came on the line.

"Commissioner, it's Red Hood," Jason responded. "Thought you might like to know that Justin Lee at Wayne Enterprises is involved in the kidnapping of Dick Grayson."

"What?! How did you find that out?"

"I was looking into the attempted robbery at The Gotham Regency and stumbled across this," Jason lied. He didn't want the officer prying into his reasons for investigating Dick's kidnapping. "Turns out Lee had a hand in both; his girlfriend is the blonde woman at the party that no one can account for. I've left them both at her apartment for you to collect. I'm sending you the address now."

Jason deliberately didn't mention the crackerjack factory. He wanted a shot at Dick's kidnappers before he handed them over to the cops. Jason cracked his knuckles in anticipation.

"Red Hood, are you sure about this?" the Commissioner wanted to know.

"Positive," Jason replied, and before Gordon could respond, he hung up.

Standing in the bitter cold, Jason surveyed the factory. It had obviously been shut for quite some time; from the ground, the place appeared abandoned. But from Jason's vantage point he could see a dim light in the main room of the factory. Withdrawing his grapple gun, he fired a line and swung across the street onto the roof of the factory.

Landing with a soft _whump_, Jason crept across the flat roof towards the raised skylight. He had a brief sense of déjà vu and his heart quickened as he compared the similarities to where they had found Robin in the clutches of the Joker back in September. Unbidden, an image of a bloodied Dick came to mind.

_No!_ Jason shook himself. That was a different situation, involving a twisted psychopath. This was just a simple kidnapping, Dick would be fine.

Raising one hand, Jason wiped at the glass that had frosted over from the cold, and peered into the room below. It had obviously been the heart of the factory at one point; huge packing machines were still dotted about the place. Two men were playing cards at a table, a small heater at their feet. A lamp was positioned to the edge of the table, giving a feeble light in the darkening gloom of the late afternoon. There was no sign of the third kidnapper.

Glancing around the room, Jason spotted Dick lying on the floor by a pillar, his hands tied behind him. He wasn't moving and Jason couldn't tell if he was conscious or not because his back was to him.

Clenching his fists, Jason debated the merits of smashing into the room via the skylight, but immediately dismissed it when he saw the guns on the table where the men were playing cards. They might shoot Dick before he'd even reached them. He would have to take them out swiftly and silently.

Jason walked slowly around the skylight, his footsteps muffled by the snow until he came to a hinged window that opened into the factory out of the men's line of sight. Squatting on his haunches, he removed a pin and started to pick the lock. It took longer than he would have liked as the cold made his hands numb, but finally a click sounded.

Quietly, he eased the window open, before tying a rope to one of the steel air vents and rappelling silently into the room below. He was surprised to find that it was almost as cold in here as it was outside.

Reaching the bottom, Jason peered around the room. The lamp on the table was the only source of illumination; the rest of the room was bathed in shadows. He smiled grimly to himself and used the cover of darkness and the large packing machines to steal closer to the men, listening to their conversation as he did so.

"I don't like it," one of the men was saying. "It's dangerous."

"You don't have to like it," the other man replied. "The boss gave orders before he left, so suck it up."

"Yeah, and that's another thing, why'd he leave? I thought we were supposed to stay put until Wayne paid up?"

"I don't know and I'm not stupid enough to ask," the second man snapped. "Thorne's dangerous. He tells you to do something and you do it, capiche?"

"But this? A fourth might kill him– No, no way! I'm not doing it. You do it if you want, I'm not."

"Pussy!" the other man sneered.

"Just shut the fuck up and play your hand!"

Silence fell as the men focused on their game once more. Jason wasn't completely clear on what their conversation had been about, but the one thing he understood for certain was that the third man wasn't here. Jason was free to take the other two clowns out without fear of interruption.

Once he'd gotten as close to them as he could without being seen, Jason lobbed a smoke pellet at the two men. It exploded on impact, enveloping them in noxious fumes. Jason used the coverage to dive into the middle of the unsuspecting kidnappers, while they yelled in confusion. Quickly, he upended the table, knocking the guns onto the floor where he kicked them out of reach. Turning, Jason cold-cocked the man nearest to him as he stood up from his chair, sending both the man and the chair sprawling. Twisting, he then delivered a vicious roundhouse kick to the other kidnapper, who was approaching him through the smoke. The man dropped like a stone, landing on his hands and knees where Jason kicked him in the stomach until he flattened onto the ground, then smashed the butt of his gun into the man's temple. The man slumped to the floor.

Jason whirled to face the other man, who had gotten to his feet and was rushing towards him. Instead of retreating, Jason neatly side-stepped, sticking out his leg and tripping the kidnapper. The man flew forward onto the ground where Jason dropped on him and smashed his head into the floor until he lost consciousness.

The smoke began to clear and Jason dragged the unconscious kidnappers over to one of the packing machines where he cuffed their hands to the large unit, preventing any sort of escape until the cops arrived. With the kidnappers finally out of commission, Jason allowed himself to do what he'd been longing to do since he arrived: check on Dick.

Hurrying over to the boy, he dropped to his knees beside him and gently eased him to a sitting position. Dick's head flopped onto Jason's chest and rage exploded inside him when he felt how cold he was. Keeping Dick propped against his chest and one arm supporting the limp form, Jason shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around the frozen teenager.

Removing the blindfold, Jason was surprised to discover that Dick's eyes were open; he wasn't unconscious like Jason had thought. There was blood trickling from his nose, which Jason wiped away carefully, and a bruise on his cheek bone. "Dick?" he prompted, gently pushing the boy's hair back from his face.

The boy's eyes moved towards him in unfocused confusion before sliding away again, not really seeing him.

Jason's heart started to beat a little faster as he took in the dilated pupils and glassy eyes. _Jesus Christ__, he's high!_

He scowled darkly, instantly regretting not using more force to subdue the kidnappers. "Dick, it's me, Jason. Can you hear me?"

Dick's eyes once more rolled back towards him and he blinked at Jason. "Jay…" he slurred.

"That's right," Jason encouraged. "C'mon on, Kiddo, talk to me."

But Dick's eyes were moving away again and his head lolled sideways.

"Whoa!" Jason put a hand on Dick's cheek, holding his head steady. Blood was trickling from his nose once more.

Jason watched helplessly while Dick stared into the distance, frowning at something. He looked over at where the drugged boy was staring, but there was nothing there, then glanced back at Dick who was now scrunching his eyes shut, and swallowed. What the hell had they given him? He had never seen someone so out of it before; Dick was completely unaware of his surroundings.

"Okay, Kiddo, let's get you to a hospital," Jason told him, propping Dick forward against his right arm so he could remove the bindings around his wrists. He gnashed his teeth in fury when he saw how tightly the cord cut into them. Maybe he should go back over to the two men and hurt them some more.

Using his knife, Jason sliced open the ropes and gently unwound them from Dick's wrists, then readjusted the leather jacket, which was too big on Dick's small frame and had slipped off his shoulders while Jason was removing the ropes.

Clasping Dick's hands between his own, Jason tried to coax some warmth back into the frozen fingers. He didn't like how cold Dick felt, and wondered if maybe he was hypothermic. His pulse was certainly a little slow, but Jason wasn't sure if that was because of the drugs or the cold.

He was just getting ready to lift Dick up when he heard a gunshot, followed immediately by something tearing into his left shoulder.

Jason reacted, pulling Dick closer to him and rolling behind the pillar just as another shot echoed, followed by the _thwack_ of a bullet embedding itself in the concrete.

His shoulder throbbing with pain, Jason held Dick against him and pulled out his gun, before peering around the pillar. He caught sight of a shadow just behind one of the large packing machines, but quickly withdrew his head as a third bullet whizzed past and thudded into the wall opposite.

Suddenly, Dick began to struggle, and Jason hissed slightly when the movement caused shockwaves of pain to radiate outwards from his injured shoulder. He looked down, just in time to see Dick clamp his hands over his ears and scrunch his eyes shut.

"Dick?" He attempted to pull one of Dick's hands away from his ears, but the boy only pushed his hands tighter against them, hunching in on himself and gritting his teeth. Jason had no experience with actually taking drugs, but he knew a bad trip when he saw one.

"You goddamn fuckers!" he roared, leaning around the pillar and discharging his gun, then pulling back quickly. "What the hell did you give him?!"

A harsh laugh drifted back. "Thought the big bad Bat didn't like guns?"

"I'm not Batman you moron!" Jason snapped.

"No, but you work with him, don't you?"

"Doesn't make us the same, and I have no qualms about using this gun on you, Ass-hat! Now what the hell did you give Dick?"

The hidden man laughed in amusement. "Ketamine."

"Ketamine doesn't do this!"

"Pure Ketamine can," the man taunted. "What's the matter? Never seen a K-hole before?"

Jason stiffened. He'd heard about the elusive K-hole, where people could become completely dissociated from reality, or hallucinate that they were on another plane of existence. A low growl rumbled in his throat, and the murderous rage that had been dogging him for most of the day started to reach blinding proportions. "You cowardly son of a bitch! Drugging an innocent kid!"

"I think you and I both know that kid isn't so innocent…_Jason_."

Jason froze and his eyes widened behind the mask. "What?"

"You heard me. Stands to reason that if Dick Grayson is Robin, then his so called bodyguard is Red Hood; after all, Jason Todd and Red Hood both appeared in Gotham at the same time." The man sounded grimly satisfied.

A wave of dread washed over Jason. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Don't I?" Cold amusement coated the man's voice. "What about those scars that Dick has on his arms?"

Jason looked down at Dick; the boy's shirt sleeves had been ripped open, revealing the awful scars that Joker had left on him. "That doesn't mean anything," he answered, his heart racing. How had this asshole worked it out?

"It means everything," the man retorted. "My brother is currently holed up in a cell with Brick – who told him about some very interesting scars that he'd seen on the boy wonder, and he filled me in during our last phone call."

_Motherfucking sonovabitch!_ Jason would rip Brick apart for this.

"See, it all fits," the man continued, the glee in his voice making Jason want to wring his neck. "A couple of months ago, some psycho claiming to be the Joker blew up Gotham General. That was big enough for even the underworld to sit up and take notice. And when word spread on the streets that he'd taken out the Bat's little bird, we all believed it – especially when there was no sign of the kid for weeks. But then the brat shows up last weekend with his new tattoos. Guess the wannabe clown got him good, huh?"

"_You shut your mouth_!" Jason snarled.

"Oh, I don't think so. This is valuable information, Todd, very valuable. Because if Dickie boy there is Robin and you're Red Hood, then that must mean…"

Jason closed his eyes.

"…Bruce Wayne is Batman."

_Shit. _"So what now?" Jason demanded, opening his eyes. He saw no point in denying it.

"What now?" the man repeated. "I haven't decided. See, I considered selling the information to the highest bidder, but then I thought it might be fun to just plaster Gotham with the news and see who takes the Bat out first. Because believe me," the amusement disappeared from his voice, leaving nothing but murderous hate, "nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see that freak go down!"

_He's the only one who knows_, Jason realized. _He hasn't told the other two. _

Jason looked down at Dick who was now crouching forward, his hands curled around his head and his heart started to pound. If it was revealed that Bruce was Batman and Dick was Robin, every hood Batman had ever encountered would come gunning for Dick first; Robin was Batman's greatest weakness.

Jason couldn't let that happen. "There's a third option."

"Oh, really?" the man sneered. "What's that?"

"I kill you," Jason told him calmly.

There was dead silence for a minute before the man responded. "Thought the Bat didn't kill."

"We covered this already, Moron, I'm not Batman." Moving slowly, Jason gently leaned Dick against the pillar, then carefully peered around it.

He ducked back when gunfire snickered towards him once more, and two bullets smacked into the concrete, spraying Jason and Dick with dust.

"You're a lousy shot, you know that?" Jason yelled, leaning around the pillar and firing at the packing machine that the man was crouched behind. He hit the loading mechanism, causing it to crash to the floor, almost hitting the man crouched beneath.

"What the– son of a bitch!" the man yelped, scrambling away from the machine to avoid being squashed to a pulp.

Immediately Jason fired and was rewarded with a howl of pain. "You shot me!" the man screeched, rolling out of Jason's line of sight. "You fucking shot me!"

"Whoops, my bad," Jason drawled, then rolled his injured shoulder which was starting to go numb. "Didn't mean to hurt you…I was aiming to kill."

"You don't have the stones to kill me!"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Jason replied coldly. "You're trying to destroy people I care about – I will put you down before I let that happen!"

"Just one problem, tough guy," the man spoke through gritted teeth and Jason could hear the pain in his voice. "You gotta catch me first."

Suddenly, metal clanged loudly and Jason looked just in time to see a door swing open and the man dash through it.

"Dammit!" He turned back to Dick. The boy was watching him, his gaze sliding in and out of focus.

"Listen to me, Kid," Jason said urgently. "I have to go after him. You stay here and I'll be back as quick as I can, okay?"

Dick mumbled something, his head dropping onto his chest.

Jason hated to leave him, but he had to catch this guy and Dick clearly wasn't going anywhere. Wrapping the leather jacket more tightly around the boy, Jason gave him one final look before snapping to his feet and dashing after the kidnapper.

Reaching the door, Jason kept his gun at the ready and slowly peered around the door…and into an empty stairwell.

_He's heading for the roof,_ Jason realized. _Why? He can't– Oh, crap! The rope!_

The rope that Jason had lowered himself into the factory with could also be pulled back onto the roof and used to lower another person onto the street below.

Swearing to himself, Jason took the steps two at a time. Emerging from the stairwell onto the roof, drops of blood in the snow indicated the direction in which the kidnapper had gone. Jason tracked him to the other side of the roof where the man was pulling up the rope from the room below.

Jason fired at him, but the blizzard now howling around them was making visibility hazy and he missed, the bullet clanging into the air vent just behind the man.

The man ducked behind one of the massive steel pipes extending out from the ventilation system, and discharged his gun three times in rapid succession, forcing Jason to dive behind an ancient chimney that probably hadn't been in use since before this was a crackerjack factory.

Jason debated his options. Their current standoff had them on an even playing field; both with guns and both staying out of each other's line of fire. But Jason had a second gun, and if he could get the other man to use up his bullets, he could take him out.

Jason quickly calculated; the man had fired eight shots. If he was using the same gun as the two clowns in the room below, that meant he had nine left in the magazine. Whipping out a bat-a-rang, Jason flung it across the roof, almost laughing out loud when the man fired two panicked shots after it. For all his tough talk, this guy clearly wasn't used to fighting whilst injured and it was making him sloppy. Jason on the other hand, had been trained by Batman, and had mastered the art of pushing through the pain to get the job done.

Throwing a smoke bomb, Jason dived out from behind the chimney and ran towards the kidnapper. The man discharged another shot and Jason dropped, flattening against the ground and rolling behind an air vent. _That's it, Moron, keep firing!_

Jason counted to thirty in his head before leaning around to check on the kidnapper, only to discover that the smoke coupled with the blizzard completely blocked his view. Swearing under his breath, Jason kept his gun aimed and, maintaining a low crouch, moved silently towards the pipe where the other man was hiding. Approaching from behind, Jason leaned over the pipe only to discover the kidnapper was gone. Drops of red in the snow suggested the man had crossed to the other side of the roof.

Cold horror washed over Jason as he studied the direction of the blood. _Shit! He's doubling back to the stairs!_ Immediately, he raced after him; Dick was defenseless in the room below.

Rounding the edge of the massive raised skylight, Jason could just make out the man limping for the stairs through the heavily falling snow. He took out his second gun and fired multiple times at the man, almost yelling with frustration when the poor visibility caused him to miss and the kidnapper dived behind another air vent.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's a lousy shot!" the man called, returning fire and forcing Jason to flatten himself against a steel pipe.

Remaining silent, Jason assessed the man's location and pondered his next move.

"What's the matter, Red? Bat got your tongue?"

"Bite me!" Jason snapped. That dig had been a little too close to something Joker might say.

The man laughed. "No thanks, you're not my type. Besides, I think we might be coming to the end of this little game of cat and mouse – someone's coming."

_Cops?_ Jason cocked his ears to listen. He knew the sound of gunfire would bring the police running sooner or later…he just thought it would have been later in this neighborhood.

But all Jason could hear was the usual sounds of the city; horns honking and echoing traffic. The wail of sirens from somewhere in the distance weren't yet heading in their direction. He returned his attention to where the man was hiding and felt the very marrow of his bones freeze.

Dick was staggering to the top of the stairwell, leaning heavily against the wall for support.

"Dick, no," Jason whispered. How had he gotten up here? No scratch that, he was so drugged out, how the hell had he even moved?!

Both men ran for the boy. To Jason, it felt like he was moving in slow motion, and the other man was so much _closer_.

_No! No! No!_ Jason's mind roared frantically at him. He didn't dare fire his gun at the kidnapper in this blizzard, not when Dick stood just a few feet away from the man.

The man smiled triumphantly when he reached the boy first, seizing his wrists and yanking him towards him where he immediately put a gun to his temple. Whirling, he faced Jason and ordered, "Stop right there!"

Jason complied, his heart thumping wildly. The kidnapper was holding Dick to him with his left arm across the boy's chest, Dick's wrists pinned tightly in his left hand. The other hand held the gun steady against Dick's head while the boy shivered with cold, his teeth chattering. Jason could see that his nose was still bleeding, blood dripping onto his white shirt, while Dick's eyes continuously squinted as though trying to focus.

"So much for your drug," Jason ground out, keeping his guns at the ready. He would blow this guy's head off the first chance he got.

The kidnapper shrugged. "I did tell my men to keep dosing him while I was gone – didn't want our little Robin making a break for it – but I'm guessing you interrupted before they could give him the next dose. Looks like the K-hole is starting to bottom out now."

Jason gritted his teeth, understanding now what the other two kidnappers had been talking about when he arrived. "Gee, y'think?"

The man scowled. "Unload your guns and toss them over the side."

Jason didn't move. "I do that and what's to stop you shooting me and taking Dick? Or shooting Dick?"

"Nothing," the man replied. "But I have nothing to gain by killing you or the kid, and if you don't do as I say, I _will_ shoot him." He cocked the trigger and shoved the gun harder against Dick's head. "And I'm not going to miss at this range."

Reluctantly, Jason obeyed, clenching his fists as his guns clattered to the street below.

The man smirked. "Looks like Lori was right, you would do anything for this kid."

Jason stiffened. "What does she have to do with this?"

"Original plan was to bring you in on the kidnapping," the man told him. "But Lori told us you'd never go for it; you cared about the kid too much. She suggested we snatch him from Inside Scoop instead–"

"And all Justin had to do was tip you off," Jason finished. _That Bitch!_

"She'll make a great gangster's moll someday…but she needs to learn to keep her mouth shut. I'm assuming she tipped you off?"

"Does it matter?!" Jason barked in response, his nerves straining. "What the hell do you want?"

"So we're going to do it like that, are we? Fine. Get back to the rope and bring it up. I'll be right behind you with the kid so don't try anything heroic."

The rage nearly blinding him, Jason returned to the rope he had dropped into the factory. Hauling it up, he turned to face the kidnapper once more. "Now what?"

"You're going to use the rope to lower me and Dick to the ground," the man replied. "Once we reach the bottom, you–"

"The hell I will!" Jason exploded. "I'm not letting you leave here with Dick!"

"Oh, the kid won't be coming with me. I just want to put enough distance between us to ensure that I get out of here; it would be too easy for you to follow me if I took the stairs. This way, you'll be too busy making sure we reach the ground safely to do anything about me."

Dick was starting to squirm and the man had to tighten his grip. Jason could see Dick blinking and frowning as though he were trying to focus; the drugs were definitely starting to wear off. Dick was becoming less pliable; what if he started to struggle halfway to the ground? The man might drop him. Not to mention that the gunshot to Jason's shoulder would make it harder to support them both. He shook his head. "I'm not doing it."

The man laughed. "It's hilarious that you think you have a choice in this. Todd, either you lower us down or I kill the kid!"

"And what's to stop you dropping Dick halfway down?" Jason demanded.

"Pretty much nothing," said the man. "But if it makes you feel better, I'll tie the other end of the rope around us both."

Jason didn't see that he had much choice. Besides, like this clown had already pointed out, he had nothing to gain by killing Dick. "Fine!"

"Smart move," the man sneered. He backed towards the parapet, dragging Dick with him. "Stay put," he added, as Jason took a step forwards. "You can lower us from there. Don't worry; I won't hurt your precious little Robin so long as you do what you're told."

Jason shot him a murderous look. "When I find you, you're a dead man."

"Better find me fast before I tell all of Gotham who you really are," the man taunted. "Because this little game of neighborhood watch will be over for good once I do! Now toss the other end of the rope over here."

Jason did so, watching as the man released Dick's wrists to catch the rope. The kidnapper had just started to loop it around them both when suddenly, Dick's hands shot up and seized the barrel of the gun, pointing it into the air and away from his head. The man's eyes widened in shock, and he immediately began to struggle with Dick for mastery of the weapon.

The kidnapper now distracted, Jason raced towards them, but was forced to flatten himself against the ground when the gun went off and two bullets whistled past, shattering the glass behind him. He lifted his head just in time to see the gun clatter over the edge of the parapet and Dick shove the large man away from him.

The man hit the three foot wall behind him and his feet slipped in the snow. His arms wind-milled as he tried to regain his footing and he grabbed at the nearest thing to keep himself from going over.

Unfortunately, the nearest thing happened to be Dick, and his small frame gave no anchor to the falling kidnapper. The man toppled over the edge of the parapet, dragging Dick with him.

"NO!" Jason screamed, darting forward and removing his grapple gun. He leaned over the edge and fired a line after the boy, watching in agonized horror as the rope wrapped around his legs. Jason anchored one foot against the wall and braced himself for the inevitable snap once the rope went taut.

"Ngggggh!" he grunted through gritted teeth when Dick's freefall was halted ten feet above the ground. His hands held tight to the line and agony seared through his shoulder as gravity made the rope swing back through the air, slamming Dick into the factory wall.

"DICK!" Jason yelled frantically, the pain throbbing through his shoulder making his hand tremble. Quickly and carefully, he lowered Dick to the ground before rappelling down the side of the building with the rope the kidnapper had intended to use.

As he neared the bottom, Jason let go and jumped the last few feet, hurrying over to Dick who was trying to roll onto his hands and knees.

"Dick! Are you alright?" Jason demanded anxiously, dropping to his knees beside him.

"Jay…" he whispered. "Urgh….S'not funny….s-stop l-laughing…"

"I'm not laughing, Kiddo, believe me," Jason replied, quickly removing the rope from Dick's legs and helping him to sit up.

"S-someb-body's laughing," Dick insisted, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead and burying his fingers in his hair. "Te-te-tell them to _stop_!"

"Nobody's laughing, Dick, I promise," said Jason gently, putting his good arm around the boy's shoulders. Dick was shivering violently, his teeth chattering.

"But…I c-can hear t-them. They wo-won't s-stop…I c-ca-can't m-make them s-stop."

Jason scowled. Dick might be out of the damn K-hole but he was obviously still hallucinating. "Dick, it's the drugs those Ass-hats gave you that are making you hear things."

"D-don't l-like it," Dick muttered, his fingers tightening in his hair.

Jason's heart ached with pity. "Don't blame you. C'mon, Kiddo, you're frozen, let's get you someplace warm."

He helped Dick to his feet, where the boy immediately wrapped his arms around himself, his whole frame shaking hard. Jason frowned. "Let's go back inside first and grab my jacket. You need to put something warmer on."

Teeth chattering loudly, Dick nodded.

Jason once more put his arm around the boy's shoulders and they turned to enter the factory, stopping dead at the sight that greeted them.

The kidnapper lay on the ground, one leg twisted at an unnatural angle under him. Blood was pooling in the snow around him, turning the crisp white into a dark, angry red. In the frightening minutes after Dick had plunged over the side of the roof, Jason had completely forgotten about the man.

"Oh, God," Dick whispered, sounding sick. "Is he d-d-dead?"

Jason tightened his grip on Dick's shoulder. "Small loss."

oOo

"Arrrgh!" Jason yelled, biting down on his fist as Leslie Tompkins dug the bullet out of his shoulder. "Motherfu–"

"Finish that sentence and I will wash your mouth out with soap, young man!" Leslie warned, pausing in her task.

"Friggin' butcher," Jason grumbled under his breath.

Across the room, Dick watched sympathetically from the bed he was lying in. He was attached to a saline drip that was feeding him warm fluids to raise his core temperature, while heat pads had been placed on his neck and chest. He was wearing a too-big pair of scrubs because his clothes were damp from the snow, and Leslie had insisted he strip as soon as they arrived at the clinic. A heavy blanket was wrapped around his small frame, but Dick was still shivering.

Jason clenched his fist in anger. After retrieving his jacket from the factory and once more wrapping it tightly around Dick, Jason had decided to bring the boy to Leslie's. Aside from being closer than the hospital, in light of what had happened with the kidnapper, he was afraid Dick's scars might give him away to the medical staff.

But it had been an uncomfortable trip. They had been forced to take Jason's motorcycle because the gunshot wound to his shoulder meant that he couldn't use his grapple gun and support Dick at the same time, and the boy was too weak and too frozen to support himself. He had also been too weak to ride pillion, forcing Jason to sit him sideways in front of him and secure him by tying him to his chest. It was a weird nod to their fist bike ride together, when Red Hood had kidnapped Dick.

Once they'd arrived at the clinic – with Jason announcing their arrival by bellowing Leslie's name as he half-carried Dick up the steps – Leslie had diagnosed Dick as hypothermic and treated him accordingly.

But the boy still looked cold and pale to Jason. "How you doing over there, Kiddo?" he asked, frowning in concern at the shaking shoulders. "You okay?"

"D-dude, I'm not the one with a b-bullet in my s-shoulder," Dick replied.

"Kid, I've had a lot– Owww! Shit!" Jason yelled, as Leslie finally removed the bullet.

"Language!" she scolded, slapping his good shoulder.

Jason responded by muttering something she couldn't hear under his breath.

Giving him an exasperated look, Leslie proceeded to clean and bandage the wound. "You're lucky the bullet lodged just below the skin," she said. "You might have needed surgery if it travelled any further. But you're still going to have to rest it for a week or two, so no jumping off rooftops, am I clear?"

"Crystal," Jason grumbled. God, he hated being a patient.

"Good. Now stay in that chair and _rest_, Jason," she ordered, before crossing the room to Dick and taking his temperature.

"How is he?" Jason called anxiously, forcing himself to remain seated when Leslie shot him one of her _you-stay-put_ looks.

"Still cold, but warmer than when you brought him in. Dick, honey, how are you feeling?"

"B-better." Dick tried to smile but his chattering teeth made it look like more of a pained grimace.

"Any more hallucinations?" she asked, peering into his eyes with a small light.

Dick shook his head.

"That's something I suppose." Leslie rested a hand on his head. "Sweetie, you really have got to stop getting yourself into these situations."

"I d-don't do it on p-p-purpose!"

"I know, Dick, I know." She sighed in sympathy.

"Dick!" A shout echoed suddenly, followed immediately by the door smacking off the wall as Bruce hurried into the room. "Are you alright?" he demanded anxiously, crossing to Dick at once.

"He's going to be fine," Leslie replied, putting one hand up to stop Bruce from jumping on the boy and knocking off his blanket. "Moderate hypothermia, but I'm raising his temperature slowly. So _don't_ knock those heat pads off him, understand?"

Bruce nodded, then carefully sat onto the bed beside Dick and looped an arm across his shoulders, pulling him close. He buried his nose in the boy's hair and Jason could see him saying something in a low voice to Dick, who nodded and leaned in against him. It caused Jason a slight pang which he immediately shrugged off.

After a few minutes, Bruce turned to Jason. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"You don't look fine. What happened to your shoulder?"

"Gunshot wound. No big deal."

Bruce scowled. "I would say that's a very big deal. Jason, what the hell happened? You just tore out of my office without any explanation, and less than three hours later you call me and tell me to cancel the ransom and get my butt down to Leslie's because you found Dick!"

"My brain finally woke up in your office," Jason replied, and explained what had happened after he left Bruce's office until the kidnapper took a swan dive off of the factory roof.

When he was finished, Bruce looked grim. "So he worked out Dick was Robin. Are you certain he didn't tell the other two men, Jason?"

"Pretty certain judging by the way he was talking. It was a power thing – him being the only one who knew – he wanted to hold it over us."

"I don't t-think he told the other two," Dick interjected. The chattering of his teeth was finally starting to subside. "After he w-worked out I was Robin, he wouldn't tell the other guys the real reason he w-wanted to drug me."

"So the information died with him," Jason mused, feeling relief. Dick was safe.

"Except he's not dead," Bruce put in, causing Jason to jerk in shock. "He's in critical condition at Gotham General."

"How is he not dead?!" Jason demanded in disbelief. "And how do you know this?"

"Commissioner Gordon called me on my way here," Bruce replied.

Jason ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Immediately after calling Bruce, he had contacted the Police Chief to let him know that he had found Dick. After letting the officer know where to find the kidnappers, Jason had informed him that he would be in touch to account for the dead kidnapper once he had gotten Dick to a doctor, and hung up before Gordon could respond.

"Did Gordon say what his chances of survival were?" asked Jason, thinking hard. With any luck, his injuries would be too severe for the man to survive.

"He's unlikely to last the night," Bruce responded, frowning at Jason's tone. "Severe head trauma and internal injuries, plus a gunshot wound to the leg." He raised an eyebrow in Jason's direction at the last part.

"He shot me first," Jason retorted shortly.

"And the fall off the roof?"

Jason could hear the unasked question in Bruce's voice; _did you even try to save him?_

He crossed his arms in anger and self-defense. "It was him or Dick!"

Bruce's expression was grim as he and Jason stared at one another. "So if he dies, then our problem is solved."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Jason exploded, jumping to his feet. "Are you saying I let him fall on purpose?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Did you?"

The question hurt Jason. "No." He reached for his mask and jacket.

"Where are you going?" demanded Bruce, removing his arm from Dick's shoulders and getting to his feet.

"To see Gordon!" Jason snapped. "I told him I'd report and explain everything once I took Dick to a doctor. Why? You think I'm going to do something?"

Bruce scowled. "Drop the attitude, Jason! It's not helping this situation."

"What situation? You're the one who's making it out to be something it's not!" Jason shot back, yanking on his jacket and making his injured shoulder throb. "To hell with this, I'm out of here!"

"Jason! Wait!" Dick's voice cried, as he stormed towards the door.

Jason stopped and turned. Dick was watching him, his face confused and upset. "Why are you fighting? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Jason replied, softening his tone. "I'm just going to see Gordon; someone has to account for tonight."

"But shouldn't it be me?" asked Dick, his voice shaky as his eyes went back and forth between Jason and Bruce. "I'm the one who p-pushed him off the roof."

"You didn't push him off the roof!" said Jason at once. "You only pushed him away from you; he was the one who slipped on the snow and fell over the edge. This was completely not your fault and you did NOTHING wrong, okay?"

Looking very uncertain, Dick didn't respond to that reassurance. Instead, he kept his eyes on Jason. "Are you coming back?"

"Nah, I'll probably head home for the night," said Jason, faking a cheerfulness that he didn't feel. A deep, cavernous ache was starting to gnaw on his soul. "Besides, you need to go home and get some rest, Kiddo."

Dick's brows furrowed. "Will you call tomorrow?"

Jason could see that the fight between him and Bruce had rattled Dick. Dick had never been privy to the full, sordid details of Jason's past; he didn't understand why Bruce had questioned Jason so harshly…or why Jason had gotten so defensive.

Jason swallowed. "I'll call tomorrow, Kiddo, I promise. Now stop worrying and relax." He looked at Leslie, who was watching them with a concerned frown. "Leslie, thanks for patching me up."

She nodded. "I meant what I said, Jason, no jumping off rooftops!"

"I won't." With one last, cold glance at Bruce's dark frown, Jason turned and left the room.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up. Life has been absolutely insane lately and this chapter was too important not to get right (writing it took a massive amount of time and effort). It's the emotional climax of the story and the whole reason Scars was written. Ever since I watched _Under the Red Hood_ and wrote _Volatile_, I've wanted Jason to make things right with his old mentor. This chapter is the culmination of that.

And thank you to every single person who has commented so far. It utterly makes my day that you take the time to say a few words and I am so very grateful. Just one chapter left after this. :)

oOo

Jason stood in the driveway of Wayne Manor and stared up at the snow-covered mansion. It was late – a little after eleven – and for the first time since he had decided to stay in this world, he hesitated to enter, unsure of the welcome he would get. After his argument with Bruce, Jason hadn't intended to come back here tonight, but his troubled thoughts had given him little choice in the matter.

It hadn't taken long to fill Commissioner Gordon in on what had happened at the crackerjack factory. Omitting the conversation about Dick being Robin, Jason had told Gordon that the third kidnapper had ran for the roof in a bid to escape, and that Dick had somehow followed them up there. The officer hadn't looked completely happy with Jason's explanation that he had let the kidnapper fall in order to save Dick, but reluctantly admitted that if he had been in Red Hood's shoes, he would have done the same thing

But his words did little to abate the growing unease that Jason was feeling. Reflecting on the events at the crackerjack factory and rattled after his fight with Bruce, Jason didn't like where his thoughts were heading.

Even though he hadn't intentionally let the kidnapper fall from the roof, Jason _had_ been ready to kill the man in order to protect Dick. But that wasn't what bothered him, – which in itself troubled Jason – what bothered him was how easy it had been to revert back to the mindset that killing was the only solution.

After Joker had kidnapped and tortured Robin, the guilt of not getting there in time and Dick's near death had very nearly sent Jason off the deep end. Somewhere in amongst all the guilt, fear and murderous rage, Jason had realized that killing the Joker would mean absolutely nothing to him if Dick died. It had been a life-altering epiphany, and Jason had finally started to understand what his mentor had been trying to teach him; that killing would achieve very little in the long run, other than to destroy Jason himself.

So why now, after all these months, had he been so quick to jump back into the role of killer? He'd been ready to annihilate Dick's kidnapper to protect the boy, and felt absolutely no qualms about doing so. Yet, it wasn't guilt at that instinct that bothered him, what bothered Jason was that he felt absolutely no guilt at all.

And he didn't like it. He didn't like this side to himself. It troubled him to realise that those dark, murderous instincts were still lurking beneath the veneer of humanity. Jason didn't want to be a killer anymore; he wanted to be the man that Dick believed him to be.

Dick was the only person in both worlds who had ever looked up to Jason, the only person who ever saw only the good in Jason. Not knowing the awful truth of Jason's past made it easy for Dick to believe in him, which in turn made it easier for Jason to not kill people. It helped that he wasn't constantly at war with himself and those around him. No longer dogged by rabid anger or consumed with revenge, Jason was content, happy even. However, after the events of tonight, he was wondering if maybe he shouldn't be troubled by that as well; should he feel so at peace when his past was filled with so much bloodshed?

Jason had been plagued by such thoughts upon returning to his apartment after talking with the Commissioner. Bone tired, yet unable to sleep, he had come to the conclusion that the ghosts currently haunting him needed to be put to rest if he was to ever become the man he aspired to be. Which was why he was now currently standing outside Wayne Manor in the snow; he had decided to start by apologising to Bruce. The man hadn't been entirely wrong when he had questioned Jason's actions at the crackerjack factory, and Jason hadn't been entirely right when he had reacted so defensively. This Bruce wasn't his Bruce, and had done nothing to deserve that antagonism; an antagonism that had been simmering under the surface for weeks and bursting out at sporadic intervals.

Jason suspected it was because he had never got the chance to make things right with his old mentor, and he was using this Bruce as a substitute whipping boy for his pent-up feelings.

"Master Jason, are you debating coming in or considering becoming an ice-statue?" Alfred's voice broke into his musings.

Jason looked at the front door to see the English man framed within it, light spilling out from behind him. "Am I even welcome?" he asked, then scowled at the question. He was behaving like a bratty child. Jason really didn't like what these feelings could turn him into.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Master Jason, you know full well that you are always welcome in this house."

"Sorry, Alfred." Jason came up the front steps towards the butler. "Is Bruce here or has he already gone out?"

"Master Bruce is in the library having coffee before he embarks on his nightly jaunt. When I informed him that you were out here, he asked if you would join him. I took the liberty of brewing another pot of coffee…unless you really are intent on this ice-statue business?"

Jason smiled. "Coffee would be great, Alfred, thank you."

"I shall bring it in directly, Sir."

"Wait!" Jason stopped him as he made to return to the kitchen. "Where's Dick?"

"Master Dick is upstairs sleeping." The butler's mouth thinned into a disapproving line. "I'm afraid the lad is rather exhausted after his ordeal."

"But he _is_ going to be alright?" Jason asked anxiously. "The drugs aren't going to have any long term effects?"

"Doctor Thompkins foresees no future complications."

Relief coursed through Jason. "Good." He paused. "Guess I'd better go in and see Bruce, huh?"

"I would advise it, Sir. Master Bruce seems very keen to speak with you."

_Yeah, I'll bet._ "Okay, thanks, Alfred."

As the butler retreated to the kitchen, Jason strode down the hall towards the library, his heart thumping just that little bit faster. He was bad at apologizing, and even worse when he knew he was wrong. He hoped he wouldn't make a complete hash of this.

Entering the living room, he found Bruce standing in front of the fire, staring into it. The man didn't move and for a moment, Jason hesitated.

He almost jumped when Bruce's deep voice addressed him suddenly. "How's your shoulder?"

"What? Oh. It's fine, no biggie." Jason waved a hand, stopping when he realized Bruce couldn't see him. "Bruce, I–"

"Jason, I owe you an apology," Bruce interrupted, turning around. "Dick told me what he remembers from the roof. I was wrong to accuse you of letting that man fall on purpose and I'm sorry. I was just concerned that some of your old instincts may have gotten the better of you, and worried about what that might do to you."

"Nice of you to say so, Bruce, but you're not the one who should be saying sorry. I am."

Bruce raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"You were right– not about me letting the guy fall on purpose!" he added as Bruce frowned. "But…I did want to kill him. No, forget that. I _meant_ to kill him, Bruce."

The older man's brows knotted. "Jason, sit down. I think we need to talk." Sitting into the armchair beside the fire, Bruce gestured for Jason to take the chair opposite.

Jason did so, feeling slightly confused. Bruce wasn't reacting with the anger he had expected. In fact, he was acting as though he had been expecting this conversation. He frowned. "Did you know I would come back here tonight?"

"I suspected you might. That's why I remained here until now, instead of going on patrol."

_Figures._ Jason sighed and rolled his eyes, wondering if Bruce Wayne in any reality could be surprised. "Why would you even suspect that?"

"Because something has been bothering you for a while now," Bruce told him. "And tonight it seemed that whatever it is was ready to come out. I tried to push you into opening up at Leslie's, but I may have gone the wrong way about it–"

"No kidding!" Jason interjected.

"–and put you on the defensive," Bruce continued. "I also realized you weren't going to talk about it while Dick was there."

"I don't want him to know about my past, Bruce."

"And he doesn't have to know. But, Jason–"

Bruce was interrupted by Alfred appearing with a tray bearing a cup and a silver coffee pot. After pouring a steaming cup for Jason, who accepted it gratefully, the elderly man turned to Bruce. "Do you require anything else, Sir?"

"No, thank you, Alfred," Bruce answered with a tired smile. "Is Dick sleeping okay?"

"The young sir is, as the expression goes, dead to the world. I will check on him again when I go up to turn the room next door for Master Jason."

Bruce nodded while Jason started to protest. "You don't need to do that, Alfred, I won't be staying."

The butler smiled at him in a knowing manner. "Very good, Sir. But there is no harm in being prepared should you change your mind. Master Bruce, I will be in the kitchen if you require anything else."

Alfred left the room and Jason immediately turned to Bruce. "I'm not staying!"

"No one is forcing you to," said Bruce patiently.

"Oh." Jason crossed his arms, annoyed at his own churlish behaviour.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, his expression serious. "Jason, its reactions like that which tell me something is bothering you. That defensiveness is reminiscent of when you first arrived in this world…Does this have anything to do with your mentor?"

Jason curbed the instinct to roll his eyes. _Seriously, how does he do that?_ Sighing, he nodded.

"I thought as much." Bruce frowned. "Jason, I'm not trying to replace the man who raised you, nor am I trying to be a father figure. You and I both know that we are too equal for me to be a parental figure to you. But I think that maybe, in a way, you resent me for that."

Jason shook his head. "I don't resent you, Bruce. I never wanted you to be a replacement for my own Bruce."

It occurred to Jason that no matter how much he had hated and resented his own mentor in the past, he had still never wanted anyone to take his place. There may be an infinite number of Bruce Waynes in the universe, but only one would ever be a father to him.

Bruce gave a small smile. "I'm glad to hear that. Sometimes, you react so strongly when I try to help you that I wonder if maybe it angers you to be reminded of the man who raised you."

Jason shrugged. "I've been taking care of myself for a long time; I just don't like people fussing over me."

"You need to get over that. Being part of a family involves looking out for one another, and while I may not be your mentor or guardian, I do consider you very much part of this family."

Jason stared at Bruce. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be part of a family.

Bruce put the tips of his fingers together and peered at Jason over the top of them. "So if I'm not the problem and your recent actions are connected to the Bruce from your reality, then I'm guessing the time has come for you to make things right with your mentor."

Jason sighed. He should have known that Bruce would work this out; the man was eerie when it came to reading people. "You know it's really creepy when you do that?"

Bruce just smiled.

Jason ran a hand though his hair. "Bruce, I started killing as a reaction to my own death and the fact that it was…I don't know, _unavenged_, but deep down, I always knew that the really dangerous criminals, the psychotics like Joker, would never completely fear Batman because they all knew he wouldn't kill them."

"The fear that Batman inspires doesn't come from the possibility of death," Bruce told him.

"I know that now. It's the fact that the goddamn Bat just won't quit!" Jason gave him a broken smile that faded quickly. "But it wasn't just about what I thought was the only way to clean up Gotham; it was also the best way to hurt Bruce like he'd hurt me, by doing the one thing he wouldn't."

"Kill," said Bruce quietly.

Jason nodded. "Bruce, I'm never going to let go of that instinct to kill until I forgive him for not killing Joker. I mean, I know _why_ he didn't, and after what Joker did to Dick, I understand that it would have meant nothing to him, but I still can't just forgive him. The only way I can move past this is to hash things out…without it being a fight to the death!"

"What can I do to help?" Bruce asked.

Jason leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped and elbows resting on his knees. "You told me once that you could help me with travelling between my world and this one…that if I were to go back there, I could still return here. Did you mean that?"

"Yes." Bruce reached into his jacked pocket and pulled out two small, black cylindrical objects. "I had planned on giving these to you at Christmas, but I think now is the right time."

"Uh…thanks." Jason took the proffered objects and stared at them. "What are they?"

"A means to travel between this world and your own."

Jason's mouth fell open. "Seriously?!"

Bruce nodded. "I've been working on them ever since you asked me about travelling between the two worlds."

Jason shook his head. He shouldn't even have been surprised. "How do they work?"

"They operate as a conduit between our worlds when connected to a power source. I designed them to be portable, but that means it limits how long or how large the portal can be."

"Why are there two?" Jason asked, examining them. "Does one open into my world and the other open back here?"

"No. They both operate on a return system."

"So why two? You afraid I'll break one or something?"

"Only one is for you. The other is for your mentor."

Jason's head shot up and he stared at the older man. Bruce smiled. "I thought it might be a good idea to give him a way to contact you should he ever need it."

Jason didn't know what to say. Not only had Bruce just handed him the means to go back and make things right with his old mentor, he had handed him the one thing that would prove to his Bruce that Jason wanted to mend the rift: a line of communication.

After several minutes of dumbstruck silence, the only words he was able to vocalize were "Thank you."

They didn't come close to conveying the gratitude he felt.

Bruce smiled. "Anytime."

oOo

"Bruce, are you sure this will work?" Jason asked, dusting snowflakes from his hair.

"Positive," the older man answered calmly. "I tested them myself."

"When did you test them?"

"Last week. Jason, I wouldn't give them to you if I weren't certain they worked," Bruce replied patiently.

Jason let out a deep breath. He stared at the cylindrical object in his hand. It was Christmas Eve and they were standing in the grounds of Wayne Manor beside one of Bruce's portable generators, getting ready to send Jason back to his world.

Once Bruce had presented him with the means to travel back to his Gotham, Jason had seen no reason to prolong the inevitable. Christmas Eve had seemed like the best option because, aside from knowing exactly where to find Bruce, – thanks to Alfred's insistence that Christmas Eve was a time for family, not Batman – Dick would be home for the holidays. And if anyone could make Bruce hear him out, it was Dick.

Crazy as it seemed, Jason was also hoping that some Christmas sentimentality would help thaw his mentor's icy demeanour. Although he couldn't help but wonder if any of that would be enough to prevent Bruce from sending him to prison for the killings he had committed months before.

"Hope he doesn't go all Batman on my ass and turn me over to the cops," Jason muttered.

Bruce frowned. "Is that likely?"

"No idea. But if I don't come back, I give you full permission to come after me," Jason joked.

"That's not funny!" Bruce retorted sharply.

"Right. Sorry. Do you know what you're going to tell Dick yet?"

"I'll work something out."

Jason and Bruce had both agreed not to tell Dick about Jason's plans. In the aftermath of his kidnapping, Dick had been in a very strange mood, but refused to talk about it. Not wishing to unsettle him further, they had enlisted Alfred to keep Dick distracted while they opened a portal on the grounds.

As far as Jason knew, Dick was currently in the kitchen helping Alfred make gingerbread cookies for tonight – and which Jason planned to be back for. He had promised Dick he would have Christmas Eve dinner with them, and he intended to keep that promise.

He looked down at the object in his hand once more. _No turning back now._ Glancing back at Bruce whose expression was grim, Jason tried to smile. "Guess I'll see you later."

The grim expression didn't change as Bruce placed one hand momentarily on his good shoulder before standing back. "Good luck."

With a last glance at Bruce, Jason took a deep breath and plugged the small black object into the portable generator and felt a frisson of electricity travel up his arm. Light exploded around him and Jason felt himself start to disintegrate.

The pins and needles sensation he got whenever he took a zeta tube rippled up his arms and down his legs as he materialized on the other side of the portal, still clutching the small black cylindrical object. The generator had been left behind.

Jason couldn't help but scowl once he became aware that it was raining in this Gotham. "Typical," he huffed and readjusted the packages under his arm. It being Christmas Eve, he had come bearing gifts. He just hoped that Bruce wouldn't consider them a bomb threat and destroy them before anyone got the chance to actually open them.

Jason's heart started to race as he approached the front door, and he swallowed. Hard. He had no idea what sort of reaction he would get. Would Bruce yell? Get physical? Or just throw him out? Hell, would Alfred even let him through the door?

Raising a trembling hand, Jason pressed the doorbell and listened to it chime throughout the house. He fought the urge to turn and run. He wasn't a child anymore, he could do this.

The sound of a bolt being drawn back echoed from the other side and Jason readied himself as the door started to creak open. Taking a deep breath, he arranged his face into what he hoped was a neutral expression, but there were so many emotions thundering through him that he wasn't entirely sure whether he managed to achieve it or not.

Slowly, the Alfred Pennyworth who had helped to raise him came into view, starting visibly when he saw who was on the front steps.

"Hi, Alfred," said Jason quietly. "Merry Christmas."

The man stared at him as though unable to believe his eyes, and Jason shuffled awkwardly. It was quite an achievement to render Alfred speechless. "I'm not here to cause trouble, Alfred, I promise," he told him, holding up his free hand in a pacifying gesture. "Is Bruce here?"

He watched the butler rearrange his face into a more composed expression, before standing aside to let him in. "Master Bruce is in his study."

"Thanks, Alfred," said Jason, stepping into the hall. His heart felt like a jackhammer. He hadn't set foot inside this house in almost six years.

"Hey, Alfie," said a cheerful voice from the left. "Who was at the…"

Jason turned his head to see a very stunned looking Dick Grayson standing in the living room doorway, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Jason.

Jason found it slightly disconcerting to face an adult Dick Grayson after spending the past few months with his thirteen-year-old counterpart – although he couldn't help but smirk once he realized he was still taller, even though Dick was older.

"Hi, Dick," he greeted him casually, trying to play it cool.

Mouth still open and eyes wide, Dick slowly came forwards. "Jason?" he whispered.

Jason inclined his head. "In the flesh."

"You're alive…you're actually alive!" Dick shook his head, mouth opening and closing, not quite so quick to shake off his shock as Alfred. Dick was the only member of the Bat family who had never quite mastered the art of hiding his feelings.

Jason suspected that Dick Grayson in any reality would always wear his heart on his sleeve.

"We thought you were dead." Dick blinked. "How…you're alive?"

Jason grimaced. "I think we've established that I'm alive. Didn't Bruce tell you what happened?"

"He told me you were Red Hood. But, Jason, you _disappeared_…after that explosion with Joker…and we thought…you were…"

"Dead again?"

Dick nodded.

Jason sighed. "It's a long story."

Dick stared at him. "Jason, what are you _doing_ here? From what Bruce said–" he broke off abruptly.

"From what Bruce said, you thought I'd gone dark side?" Jason supplied.

Dick hesitated, then nodded slowly. The shock was draining from his face, but confusion was still etched in every corner.

"He wasn't wrong," Jason admitted.

"Jason," said a familiar, deep voice suddenly, sending shivers down his back. Slowly, he turned to face his old mentor.

Bruce stood at the foot of the stairs, looking grimmer and more serious than Jason had ever seen him. His expression was tight as he stared at Jason.

"Hello, Bruce," said Jason quietly, trying to ignore the pain that flared as old wounds were ripped open.

Bruce didn't move. "What are you doing here?"

Jason could see him studying him, evaluating the packages under his arm and the distance he stood from Dick and Alfred. Bruce was assuming he had come to harm them in some way. Jason couldn't swallow the bitterness that rose up and nearly choked him. "They're just gifts, Bruce! Christ, you really think I would hurt Dick or Alfred?"

"You tried to kill me a few months ago," Bruce reminded him.

Jason had no response to that.

"What are you doing here?" Bruce demanded again.

"I'm here to talk."

Bruce crossed his arms. "Talk?"

Jason gritted his teeth in frustration. Jesus, the man was obtuse! Maybe he should have come waving a white flag. "Yes, Bruce, talk! You know, that thing people do when they're trying to make amends?!"

Bruce still didn't move and Jason scowled. He'd forgotten how much of a statue this man could be. A hand touched his arm and he turned to find Dick beside him.

"Are you really just here to talk?" Dick asked, looking searchingly at Jason's face.

Jason nodded.

Dick turned to his mentor. "Bruce, give him a chance."

Bruce frowned, but inwardly Jason felt a rush of warmth. Trust Dick to automatically believe the best in him. Jason would never understand how he had managed to maintain that easy ability to trust after being raised by the most suspicious man on the planet.

Bruce's jaw tightened as he stared at Dick. "Fine," he ground out eventually. "Let's go to the living room."

"I shall bring in some coffee, Sir," Alfred informed him. His eyes went to Jason and his expression softened somewhat. "It is good to see you, Master Jason."

"Thanks, Alfred," Jason whispered, looking at his feet. It was easier than meeting Alfred's eyes.

While the butler returned to the kitchen, Jason entered the living room with Dick and Bruce. His heart was pounding and he stood awkwardly just inside the door, not sure whether he should sit down or wait to be invited.

Bruce wasn't helping. The man strode over to the furthest chair and sat into it, saying nothing while he watched Jason closely.

_Dammit, Bruce!_ Jason thought. The man obviously had no intention of making this easy on him.

Once again, it was Dick who came to his rescue. "Why don't you sit down?" he asked Jason, carefully taking the packages from him. "And since Bruce seems to have forgotten his manners and Alfred isn't here to remind him, thanks for the gifts."

Bruce shot Dick a sour look as he placed the presents under the tree, while Jason sat into the chair closest to the door. It was also the chair furthest from Bruce. Looking supremely unconcerned at his mentor's glowers, Dick sat into the chair nearest to Jason and gave him an encouraging smile.

Jason could only grimace nervously in response, before turning his attention to Bruce. The man's elbows were resting on the arms of the chair, his hands clasped in front of his mouth and a blank expression on his face.

Jason took a deep breath. "Bruce, we need to talk about what happened." Inwardly, he cringed. Could that have sounded any cheesier?

"I thought you already said everything you needed to say," Bruce responded coldly.

"Jesus, Bruce! Don't be such a fucking child!" Jason snapped, before he could stop himself. "At least I'm trying here."

Bruce didn't respond.

"Jason, why don't you start by telling us why you're here?" Dick suggested gently, shooting Bruce an exasperated look. "Where have you been for the last few months?"

To their surprise, it was Bruce who answered. "He's been in another world."

"Come again?" said Dick, while Jason stared at him in shock.

"He's been in another world," Bruce repeated. "One similar to ours."

"How in the hell did you know that?" Jason demanded, frustrated. Why was Bruce always ten steps ahead of him? Although he wasn't surprised that Bruce hadn't told Dick, not with the way Bruce liked to hoard his secrets.

Bruce scowled. "Joker has been shouting about it ever since Superman returned him to Arkham…a Superman not from this reality."

Jason clenched a fist. He should have known that freak clown wouldn't stay quiet. "What's he been saying?"

"That he'd been to another world with you and that you were working with the Batman in that reality," Bruce paused and fixed him with a grim look, "and that he'd killed another Robin."

"HE DIDN'T KILL HIM!" Jason shouted violently, jumping to his feet. That sonovabitch clown! "You tell that fucking _freak_ that Robin is still alive! He _didn't_ kill him!"

Bruce raised an eyebrow while Dick looked startled.

"Sorry," Jason muttered, sitting back down again. "It's just…we did get there on time, but it was close. Too close." He shuddered at the memory.

"He almost killed another Robin?" Dick asked, frowning.

Jason nodded. "Your counterpoint actually."

That got a reaction from Bruce. His eyes narrowed at Jason. "Dick is still Robin in that reality?"

"Dick is only thirteen in that reality," Jason answered shortly.

Bruce's expression darkened further. "Thirteen?"

"Yeah, but that still didn't stop Joker from torturing him and damn near killing him!" Jason spat. He could feel the rage from that awful night crawling beneath his skin and shook himself. The whole point of coming back here was to purge that murderous instinct, not give into it.

Just then, Alfred entered with a tray bearing a pot of coffee, three cups and a plate of his chocolate chip cookies.

Jason's mouth watered and his heart pitched at the familiar smell. He hadn't had one of those cookies since he was seventeen, and his hands shook a little as he took the coffee and cookies from Alfred. He had a feeling the tremble did not go unnoticed by Alfred and took a bite of the cookie in an attempt to hide his nerves. They tasted even better than he remembered.

"How did you even end up in another world?" asked Dick, looking like he was having trouble processing this. "And why didn't you come back when Joker did?"

"Because I wanted to stay," Jason answered softly.

"Stay?" Dick looked stunned. "Why?"

"Because I have a life there," Jason answered, looking away from Dick's slightly hurt expression. "And there was nothing to come back to here."

"And whose fault is that?" Bruce demanded.

"Bruce!" Dick reproved him quickly, while Alfred raised a disapproving eyebrow from where he stood behind Dick's chair.

The man frowned at them both. "Don't _Bruce_ me, Dick. Lest you've both forgotten, Jason killed several people, and tried to kill me."

"And I'm not here to deny that or make excuses for it," Jason interjected angrily. "I'm here to make amends!" Christ, couldn't the man at least hear him out?!

Bruce crossed his arms, his expression unmoved. "Why now? You came back here after five years believing that I had failed you by not killing Joker; that I didn't care. All you wanted was revenge. You weren't willing to listen to reason. And now, only a few months later, you're ready to talk?" He fixed Jason with a narrowed stare. "What's changed? What makes this different?"

Jason didn't break eye contact. "Because I understand now, Bruce. I get it. I know what you must have felt after Joker murdered me, and what that must have done to you."

Bruce looked momentarily taken aback, then frowned. "Are you talking about what Joker did to Robin in this other world?"

Jason nodded. "We knew…we _knew_ Joker had him! But we couldn't find him, and all the time we were looking, knowing…what Joker was doing," he swallowed. "And then when we found him, what Joker had done…" Jason shook his head as the God-awful image of a bloodied little Robin invaded his memory. "Jesus, Bruce, how did you _stand_ it? I thought I'd go insane!"

Bruce didn't answer, merely pursed his lips. But in that tight, minute action Jason saw the pain – and knew at once that his death had hurt the older man deeply.

Once Jason had discovered that Batman returned Joker to Arkham after murdering him, any semblance of reason or sanity had disappeared. In his anguish, he believed that Bruce had only thought of him as an expendable soldier and that his death meant nothing to him. But the guilt and pain that had burned through Jason in the aftermath of Dick's brutal encounter with Joker, had forced him to see things from his mentor's perspective, had helped him to understand how much it hurt to witness someone that you cared about suffer. He knew now that all of Bruce's talk about missions and soldiers and war were just a means of denial, a way to pretend that his heart didn't hurt, didn't _bleed_, at the loss.

Jason leaned forward in his chair, barely seeing Alfred and Dick. "Bruce, I understand why you didn't do it – why you didn't kill Joker. I always thought it was because my death didn't matter, but now I know it was because_ his_ death wouldn't matter. It wouldn't bring me back or take away the pain. It would only make you more like…"

"Him!" Bruce spat, and now the naked pain on his face was plain for all to see.

Jason nodded again. "Bruce, I'm _sorry_," he whispered.

Bruce's expression was tight. "That still doesn't change the fact that you killed people."

"You think I don't know that?!" Jason snapped, his own heart hurting and bleeding out into his chest. "I'm trying to make things right, not change them!"

"What about Joker?"

The sudden question threw Jason and he stared at Bruce. "What?"

"Joker. Do you still plan on killing him?"

Jason was frustrated. "I _just _told you that I want to make things right – how does killing him achieve that?!"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "So you haven't come back here to kill him?"

Jason exhaled viciously. "Are you even fucking listening to me, Bruce?! I didn't come back here for him! I came back for you!"

"What about the other people that you've killed?"

"What about them?!" Jason demanded, jumping to his feet and clenching his fists. "I can't change it! I can't go back and undo it! I'm trying to move on, become a better man – and yet you still sit there fucking judging me!" His heart was pounding wildly and his hands were trembling violently. "You know what? Screw you, Bruce!"

Heartsick, he whirled and made for the door. But before he could leave the room – and Jason wasn't even sure how he did it – Bruce was in front of him.

"Jason, stop."

Jason was breathing hard, his fists still clenched. "What? Something else you want to throw at me?"

"I'm sorry."

Jason froze. The silence in the room was so thick they could have heard a pin drop.

Bruce's jaw was clenched, his eyes tight. "I'm not trying to throw this back in your face, Jason. I'm trying to understand."

"Understand what?" demanded Jason furiously. "I'm trying to fix things! What's there to understand?!"

"Why now?" Bruce asked quietly. "The Joker came back here three months ago. Why are you only coming back now?"

"Because I nearly killed someone two days ago!" Jason looked away, furious at Bruce for forcing him to admit that.

"And what does that have to do with me?"

Jason's head snapped back. "It has everything to do with you, Bruce! How am I supposed to shake this rage when I can't even forgive _you_?"

"I thought you said you understood?"

"I do!" Jason wanted to rip his hair out because he didn't understand this himself. He understood Bruce's motives, so why the hell couldn't he _forgive _them?

Bruce took a step closer, bringing him into Jason's personal space, and Jason had to resist the urge to take a step back.

"Is it because there's still a part of you that thinks I didn't care?" Bruce asked carefully.

"I know you cared," said Jason bitterly. "You just didn't care enough."

"I cared enough to almost put you in the Lazarus Pit."

Jason was stunned. "What?"

Bruce was looking at him with a terrible sadness in his eyes. "After your death, even knowing what I know about the pit, I considered putting you in...bringing you back."

It felt like a sledgehammer had smashed into his chest. Jason couldn't breathe. Bruce hated and distrusted Ra's Lazarus Pits, believing them to be dangerous and suspecting them of having consequences beyond anything they had yet discovered. Yet he had contemplated resurrecting Jason within one. Jason knew that only the very deepest of madness could have allowed him to consider such an action, the madness of grief.

His eyes were wide as he stared at Bruce. Had he really cared that much?

"I always cared," said Bruce, and his voice was hoarse, "I thought you knew that. Even now, I thought you knew that."

Jason swallowed, unable to speak, his eyes still locked on Bruce. His heart felt like it might burst from a terrible mixture of grief and happiness. Bruce still cared. After everything he had done, Bruce still cared. Only the love of a father would allow for that.

Bruce took another step closer. "Jason, I'm sorry…for everything."

In that instant, Jason forgave him. Bruce hadn't been the perfect parent, but he had tried to do his best the only way he knew how. He was still trying, even now.

"I forgive you," Jason whispered.

In less than a second, Bruce had closed the last step between them and was enveloping Jason in a tight hug.

Jason returned the embrace just as fiercely. It was the first time in his life that he and Bruce had been so vulnerable with one another. It just wasn't in either of their natures to be demonstrative or emotionally open; the only member of the Batfamily that honour went to was Dick. But as all the years of anger and hurt and disappointment were forgiven, when words couldn't express what this moment meant to either of them, it was the only gesture that really seemed fitting.

And as Jason held onto the father he thought he had lost, the broken child inside him finally began to heal.

He knew he wouldn't overcome his rage overnight, that would still take time, nor would his relationship with his mentor become suddenly perfect – there was too much water under the bridge for that to happen. But now, at last, they were on the right path.

The old wounds that had been reopened scabbed over and began to heal, and Jason had a feeling that this time, there would be no scars.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Okay, here it is, the final chapter. I am so, so, sorry about how long this has taken to get up. Life has been hectic but it really is no excuse for making you all wait three weeks for an update. It won't happen again, I promise. In future I'm going to wait until the story is fully finished before posting, instead of posting when I'm at the halfway mark with writing.

Grovelling aside, I'd like to say a huge thank you to everyone who's commented along the way. There really are no words to express my gratitude when someone takes the time to say a few words but I'd still like to say thank you, and that I really appreciate it. I hope everyone reading this has a wonderful weekend. :)

Also, a big massive thank you to my wonderful beta, Kim, who has made my life SO much easier with regards to editing (so, I seriously have no excuse for the delay in updating). Kim, you rule. :)

oOo

It was the strangest Christmas Eve that Jason could remember: surrounded by the family he thought he had lost, in the house he thought he'd never set foot in again, with the father he'd tried to kill. It sounded like a demented nursery rhyme and the surrealism of it all made his head pop.

Several times throughout the day, Jason considered the possibility that he had finally gone bat-shit crazy and this was all just some wild fantasy. He'd even pinched himself at one point just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. After the past few years of death and estrangement, Jason found it hard to wrap his head around this easy acceptance and forgiveness. They were all trying so hard to show him that he mattered, that they still cared – how could he not have seen it sooner?

Jason supposed that his fucked-up, five-year vendetta had prevented him from seeing a lot of things.

Much of the day was spent catching up. Jason told them everything that had happened to him since he landed in the other Gotham – including the full tale of what Joker had done to Robin.

Bruce had remained very quiet for a long time after that, leaving Jason to wonder what he was thinking; Bruce's expression suggested that something was going on in that busy brain of his.

It was Dick who filled Jason in on everything that had happened during the months he'd been in the other reality, and Jason used that as an opportunity to compare adult Dick to thirteen-year-old Dick. There were a lot of similarities between them; the easy smile, dark hair and wide blue eyes for example. But Jason was having trouble picturing young Dick growing into the muscular adult in front of him. He supposed it would happen sometime, but right now, he just couldn't see the skinny little teenager as a grown man.

All in all, it had been a surprisingly peaceful day, the only moment of awkwardness occurring just after they had opened their gifts from Jason.

Alfred had been very pleased with his first edition of _The Woman in White_. The butler had started collecting first editions with Bruce after the deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne – a hobby he had continued long after Bruce had abandoned it._ The Woman in White_ was Alfred's favourite book, but one he had never been able to find a good quality first edition of. When Jason had spotted the book in an antique book store several weeks ago in the other Gotham, he had thought of Alfred and purchased it at once. Even then, Jason had known deep down that the time to return was coming.

Dick had exhibited his usual boyish excitement at his gifts; a T-shirt that read _someone I know went to another world and all I got was this lousy T-shirt_ and a holographic computer watch similar to the one young Dick had. Adult Dick was now curled in an armchair wearing said T-shirt and playing with his new toy, a big grin on his face.

Jason had to smile at that, and wondered how thirteen-year-old Dick would react when he opened his gifts the next morning. After all, he was still a child whose favourite holiday was Christmas.

His smile faded slightly when he remembered how quiet Dick had been for the last few days. Watching Bruce open the wrapping on his gift, it occurred to Jason that Dick may not enjoy this Christmas unless they got to the root of whatever was bothering him. He resolved to talk to the boy as soon as he got back tonight, before returning his attention to Bruce just as he peeled the last of the wrappings off of his gift and opened the box to reveal the small, black teleporter. The billionaire raised a quizzical eyebrow at Jason.

"It's a means to travel between this Gotham and the other," Jason explained. "That way you can visit…anytime."

Bruce looked pleased and touched; both rare expressions on his face. "Jason, I–"

"Wait!" Dick interrupted, sitting up straighter in the armchair and staring at Jason. "You're not staying?"

Jason opened and closed his mouth. Even though he hadn't said anything to them when describing his life in the other Gotham, it had been tacitly implied that he would be returning. Judging from Bruce's expression, it was clear that he had understood that, but it seemed Dick had missed the nuances. Jason shifted awkwardly and averted his eyes from Dick's confused face. "I'm going back to the other Gotham, Dick. My life is there now."

"But then why come back? Why go to all the trouble of coming back here and fixing things with Bruce if you're not staying?"

Jason stared at the ground. How could he explain this without making it sound like he was choosing one family over another? Jason wasn't good at voicing his feelings but he still cared a great deal about his family here. Not to mention that finally making peace with Bruce had made him feel more at home. The problem was that this was no longer home. Home was literally a world away right now.

After several minutes, Bruce broke the awkward silence. "You needed to do this if you had any hope of putting your anger behind you and making a life for yourself, am I right?"

Jason nodded.

"But why does that life have to be in another world?" Dick wanted to know.

"Because I have responsibilities there," Jason answered quietly.

"Young Dick?" Bruce guessed.

Jason nodded again. "He's just had the year from Hell; I can't abandon him now…I don't want to abandon him."

"You've only been there for a few months," Dick pointed out. "How can you get so attached in that length of time?"

Jason raised an eyebrow somewhat teasingly. "You doubting your ability to charm?"

"Never!" Dick shot back with a slight grin. "I'm just trying to understand."

Jason sighed. "I can't explain it, there's just a…_bond_ there. Dick is the kid brother I never had. I feel responsible for him."

Bruce leaned forward in his chair. "Is that what's influenced this sudden mature streak?"

Jason shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

Dick cocked his head in a move reminiscent of thirteen-year-old Dick. "Jason, are you happy there?"

"Yes." Jason felt slightly guilty at that admission and glanced quickly at Bruce.

But the older man was smiling. "And that's all that matters. Do you plan on returning for another visit?"

"That's what this thing is for," Jason answered, removing the small teleporter from his jacket pocket. "And hey, I expect you to use yours too. That thing's not a USB stick you know!"

"So I gathered," said Bruce, examining the item with interest. "Do you know anything about its design?"

"No clue." Thinking about it now, Jason wondered if the other Bruce had help in developing the miraculous little device. The man was a whizz at technology and had a strong grasp of science, but enough to create something so compact that could still generate portals between worlds? Jason strongly suspected Martian Manhunter and Barry Allen had a hand in its development.

"I must discuss its development with my counterpart," said Bruce, almost to himself, as he turned the object over in his hands.

Jason rolled his eyes. Trust Bruce to be more excited about the technology that could transport him to another world rather than actually visiting that world. "So does that mean you'll use it?"

"Without question," Bruce replied, smiling.

oOo

It was after six when they descended into the Batcave so that Jason could use one of the generators to power his teleporter, and Bruce bid him wait before disappearing into the bowels of the cave.

"You sure he's okay with my not staying?" Jason asked Dick, eyes fixed on the darkness that Bruce had just melted into.

"It probably wouldn't be his first choice," Dick admitted, and Jason turned back to look at him. "He's gonna miss you, Jason, we all are. But the important thing is that you're happy."

"I am," said Jason quietly.

Dick smiled. "Then like Bruce said, that's all that matters. Just don't be a stranger, alright? Use that electronic clicky thing and come visit. A lot."

"I will," Jason promised. "And hey, Bruce has one now too, so you should come visit as well – meet the squirt. You'd like him."

"Of course I'd like him. He's me, isn't he?"

Jason rolled his eyes and punched Dick lightly in the arm. "Your modesty humbles me."

Dick grinned just as Alfred joined them, carrying a small package. "Master Jason, I have procured some items for you to take back with you."

Jason took the proffered package. "Thanks, Alfred. What are they?"

"Some of those cookies that you have always been rather partial to. I have also enclosed some photographs of your family here to ensure that you do not forget us."

A lump formed in Jason's throat. "Alfred, I could never forget you – any of you! And this isn't goodbye, I'll be back to visit again real soon. A longer visit next time."

"See that you do, Sir. I would find myself very disappointed if you did not."

Jason smiled, before leaning over and hugging the old man, startling him. "Never change, Alfred."

"I shall do my best, Sir," the butler deadpanned as Jason pulled back.

Bruce reappeared, striding out of the darkness as only the Dark Knight could, a steel canister held tightly in his grip.

"What's that?" Jason asked when Bruce drew level with them.

"Waters from the Lazarus Pit."

"Say what now?!"

"You heard me." Bruce scowled. "After I discovered Ra's had resurrected you in a pit, I…_acquired_ waters from one of the pits to study its chemical composition."

"You wanted to see if it really was the Lazarus Pit that turned me rabid," said Jason.

Bruce's silence was answer enough.

Jason sighed. "Did you find anything?"

"The only thing I could determine with any real conviction is that the Lazarus Pit has a remarkable ability to regenerate or restore organic cellular matter and human tissue–" he handed the canister to Jason "–such as skin."

Jason's eyes widened as he understood the implications of Bruce's words. "Dick's scars!"

Bruce nodded.

Jason stared down at the canister in his hands. "Do you really think this will work?"

"My counterpart may want to run some tests to ensure the results will be the same in another reality before using it on the boy, but yes, I do believe it will work."

Bruce scowled slightly and Jason knew it was eating him up that something he hated so much might be able to yield some good.

Truthfully, Jason was also a little nervous about exposing Dick to waters from the Lazarus Pit, but the alternative was forcing him to live with scars that not only bothered him, but could potentially put him in danger. And Jason was even less okay with that.

"Thanks," he told Bruce quietly.

The older man smiled and Jason couldn't help but marvel at the years that had dropped from his face in just a few hours.

Taking a deep breath, Jason glanced at them all in turn. "Guess I'd better get going. Alfred won't like it if I'm late for dinner."

Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Jason. You know where to find us if you need anything."

"And you know where to find us if you feel like just visiting," Dick added. "People don't just call when it's about life and death; they also do the visit thing to say 'hi'."

Jason grinned at him. "I'll remember that."

"Make sure that you do." Dick leaned over and hugged him tightly. "Look after yourself, Jason, and don't forget to come back and visit."

Jason shuffled his packages under one arm and returned the embrace. "I'll be back so often you'll be tempted to break my mode of transportation!"

Dick laughed as they drew apart. "I doubt that."

Alfred put a hand on his shoulder and Jason realized that Bruce still had a hand on his other shoulder, as if reluctant to let go.

"Master Jason, it is good to see you happy and well. I hope you continue to be so, and that you return to us sooner rather than later for a visit."

"I will, Alfred, I promise," said Jason. "Can you promise that you'll have some more of those cookies for me when I do?"

"If cookies shall entice you back then I will bake a mountain, Sir."

Jason grinned before turning to face Bruce. The older man's face was serious. "Jason, you are welcome here anytime. This will always be your home, remember that."

"I will," said Jason. And before he knew what was happening, Bruce had pulled him into a tight hug, which Jason returned only too readily.

"Thank you for coming back," Bruce whispered.

Jason nodded. The lump in his throat made it difficult to speak.

After several minutes, they pulled back and smiled at one another. Jason could feel peace settling in his heart; all vestiges of his murderous old rage gone. Forgiving Bruce had been the last step in purging the poison. And while Jason knew he would always be a hot-head, at least now his anger was no longer destructive.

Bruce, Dick and Alfred stepped back as Jason readied himself to return.

"Remember, we have one of those clicky things as well," Dick called. "So if you don't come back for a visit, we'll drag you back kicking and screaming!"

Jason grinned. "I'd expect nothing less." With one last glance at them, he plugged in the teleporter and electricity coursed up his arm as light exploded around him.

He growled and closed his eyes as the uncomfortable pins and needles sensation rippled through him. The League really needed to work on making zeta beams less uncomfortable. Seconds later, the light around him slowly faded. Arms and legs still tingling, Jason found himself in the Batcave of the other reality.

"How did it go?" Bruce's voice asked.

Jason turned towards the computer where the older man was sitting, watching him carefully.

"Surprisingly, it went really well."

"Good." Bruce smiled and Jason couldn't help but notice that his smile was less guarded than his own mentor's. "Most fathers only want the best for their sons, Jason. I'm sure your Bruce had long since forgiven you the past – you both just needed the chance to talk and sort things out."

"Seriously, how do you do that?" Jason complained, joining him at the computer. The way Bruce in both realities could just _know_ things freaked him out.

Bruce ignored the question. "How do you feel?"

"Better. Guess talking isn't as lame as I always thought."

"I'm glad you see that now." He raised an eyebrow at the items under Jason's arm. "Christmas gifts?"

"In a manner of speaking." Jason held out the metal canister. "This one's for you."

"Me?" Bruce took the canister. "What is it?"

"Waters from the Lazarus Pit– Wow! You mean it _is_ possible to surprise you?" Jason grinned at the look on Bruce's face. "Guess you're human after all."

Again, Bruce ignored the comment. "What's this for?"

"Dick's scars. Bruce sent it back with me. Don't ask me how, but he managed to get his hands on some to study the chemical composition after I was brought back to life in one. He thinks it can heal the scars."

Bruce jerked his head up from where he had been studying the canister. "Will it work the same way in this reality?"

Jason shrugged. "He said you might want to do some tests first just to make sure."

"He was right about that," Bruce muttered, his gaze going back to the canister.

"Do you think it'll work?"

Bruce shook his head. "I have no idea. But let's hope it does; Dick is pretty upset about those scars at the moment."

"What do you mean? Did he talk to you?"

"Talk isn't the word I would use, yelled might be more appropriate."

"Yelled? What happened?"

"He saw you enter the portal. He'd guessed something was up and came looking for us just as you went through. He's pretty mad with us both right now."

Jason groaned. Sometimes Dick was just too smart for his own good. "Where is he now?"

"Busy ignoring me in the living room. I came down here to give him some space."

Jason gave a derisive snort. In a house the size of Wayne Manor, Bruce had to come to the Batcave to give Dick space?

"Alright, fine. I was waiting for you."

Jason shook his head. "For a man with the world's best Poker face, you suck at lying, Bruce."

"Not my concern right now. Jason, see if you can talk to Dick. He might be less angry once he knows you're back."

"Or he might be even angrier with me for not telling him," Jason pointed out, heart sinking at the thought.

"Just see if you can get him to talk. Right now, he's shutting me out and nothing I say is getting through to him."

"I'll talk to him," said Jason, heading for the stairs. "But, Bruce, I think this is about more than me going back to my reality."

"I know it is," said Bruce wearily.

oOo

Jason found the living room in near darkness. The only light came from the Christmas tree and the roaring fire, the combination casting strange shadows on the walls. Dick was curled in an armchair with his head resting on his hand, an unhappy expression on his face as he stared into the flames.

"You look way too serious for Christmas Eve, Kid," Jason commented as he entered.

"Jason!" Dick cried, jerking upright.

Before Jason could blink, the boy had jumped out of the chair, dashed over to him and thrown his arms around his waist. "Whoa!" said Jason, startled. "I wasn't gone that long!"

Dick mumbled something into his chest.

"Sorry, Dick, didn't catch that," Jason told him, patting the boy's head.

Dick pulled back and glared up at him. "I said, you're a jerk!"

Jason stared down at the young, angry face. "I'm sorry about today, Kiddo. We didn't want you stressing out and I had to do this."

Dick crossed his arms. "You promised to dial down the mother hen act!"

"I promised to dial down the mother hen act when you're Robin," Jason pointed out. "But we agreed that it still stood when you aren't. It's my job to protect you, remember?"

"I didn't need protecting from this!" Dick snapped furiously. "Jason, what you did wasn't fair! What if you'd got stuck in the other Gotham? What if you hadn't been able to come _back_?"

"I would have found a way to come back–"

"You're missing the point!" Dick yelled. "What if you _hadn't_? I wouldn't even have gotten the chance to say goodbye! You and Bruce had no right to make that decision for me. I'm not a child, Jason!"

Jason's eye twitched as he fought the urge to raise an eyebrow; Dick had never seemed more like a child to him than at that moment. He looked vulnerable as he glared up at Jason with anger and hurt.

"Okay, so we made a bad call. But, Dick, you've got to realize that when Bruce and I do this, we're not doing it because we think you're a kid, it's because–"

"That is such a crock!" Dick snorted angrily. "That's exactly why you're doing it! You don't do it to each other, or to Alfred, you only do it to _me_! I'm sick of it, Jason! I'm so tired of people making decisions for me or trying to control me…I'm not freaking _helpless_!"

And suddenly, Jason knew what this was about. The last few months had been all about loss of control for Dick. After Joker had tortured him, he had taken away the boy's independence; Dick had spent the weeks following the brutal assault confined to a bed and being taken care of, and the weeks following that being coddled by Bruce, Alfred and Jason. Even when he was finally well enough to return to being Robin, Batman and Red Hood had spent the week before his return working overtime to put as many crazies as possible on lockdown, to control the situation for Robin's return.

Their concern was smothering Dick.

"Don't you dare tell me that I'm wrong, Jason!" Dick jabbed a finger at him furiously.

"Wasn't gonna."

Dick froze. "What?"

Jason sighed. "We've been real buttheads about all of this, haven't we?"

"You…have?" Dick's eyes were wide. He'd clearly been expecting Jason to disagree with him, to defend his and Bruce's actions.

"Ever since Joker, everyone's been making decisions for you, haven't they? Deciding that they know what's best for you. Nobody's even asked you what you want."

Dick's mouth opened slightly and his forehead creased in a small frown.

"And then Brick comes along and spills to everyone about those scars on your arms," Jason continued, "making it harder for you to keep your identity secret, making it harder for you to be Robin. You can't control the fact that criminals target you because you're Bruce's son, but now it feels like you're losing the freedom that being Robin gives you as well."

"I don't blame Bruce," Dick was quick to point out. "He can't control what those guys do either. It's just…I don't…"

"You've had little enough control over what happened to you over the last few months without me and Bruce taking away the power to make your own decisions," Jason finished.

Dick nodded.

Jason felt like a complete asshole. Dick had told him last Sunday that he was tired of Jason and Bruce making him feel helpless, but Jason hadn't listened. He'd been too busy reacting to the situation to see what Dick really needed. "I'm sorry, Kiddo. It won't happen again."

Dick looked sceptical. "You mean that?"

"I promise. Just let me know if I slip up, okay? Sometimes it's hard to break a habit."

"Deal." Dick tilted his head. "What about Bruce?"

"You're going to have to talk to him about that. But I wouldn't hold my breath; he's a parent, Dick, and it's kind of in the job description to be overprotective."

"Of course it is," Dick muttered.

Jason frowned, studying him. Dick still looked strained and upset. "What's wrong? And don't tell me 'nothing' because I know something is bothering you."

Dick shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Nothing you can do about it anyway."

"And that's a reason not to tell me?" Jason put a hand on his shoulder and stared down at him in concern. "C'mon, Dick, what's up?"

Dick wrapped his arms around himself. "You know the drugs those guys gave me? The ones that made me hallucinate?"

"What about them?" Jason asked carefully.

Dick's expression was haunted. "They made me see Joker. He was there, _laughing_ at me and making me remember…stuff."

Jason felt a wave of pity. "Aw hell, Kid. Why didn't you say something?"

"What was the point? Besides, I've kind of realized, he's always going to be with me."

"What do you mean?"

"The scars." Dick shrugged. "Like Brick said, I'm Joker's bitch now."

His voice was bitter and full of pain, making Jason's heart twist; the words sounded all wrong coming from a child's mouth. Instinctively, Jason reached for Dick and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Don't say that ever again! You're no one's–" Jason grimaced, feeling sick, "–bitch. You're Dick Grayson and you make a kick-ass Robin! Joker can't take that from you. No one can."

"But how am I supposed to maintain a secret identity with these scars?" Dick whispered. "How am I supposed to _forget_?"

"I don't think you can forget," Jason admitted. "But there might be something we can do about the scars."

"Oh, yeah? What?" The boy's tone was disbelieving.

Jason took a deep breath; Bruce was going to kill him for doing this before he had a chance to run tests. "My Bruce gave me a canister with water from one of the Lazarus Pits to bring back with me. He thinks it might heal your scars."

Dick pulled out of the embrace and looked up at Jason. "What?"

"He was studying the waters, wanted to know more after I was resurrected by them. He said Bruce might need to run some tests here first but…Dick, there's a good chance it'll work."

Dick took a step back and stared, unblinking, at him. "Where's the canister now?"

"Bruce has it." Jason guessed where this was going. "Dick, no way he's going to let you try anything until he's run some tests."

"Uh-huh," Dick muttered, circling around Jason and heading for the door.

Jason followed him quickly. "Dick, did you hear me? Bruce needs to run some tests first."

Dick kept walking. "Thought your Bruce had already tested the stuff."

"He has, but Bruce needs to make sure the waters work the same way here. Different realities, remember?"

"You're from that reality. Doesn't stop you from breathing the same air and eating the same food as us," Dick countered. "Why should the waters from the Lazarus Pit work any differently on us?"

"Kiddo, you know it doesn't work like that," said Jason gently as they reached Bruce's study.

Dick pushed open the door and entered. "I think you're making it more complicated than it needs to be. The Lazarus Pit raised you from the dead, Jay, and it's kept Ra's Al Ghul alive for a couple of hundred years; you think it can't heal a few scars?"

"That's not the issue, Dick," said Jason, watching as he spun the hands of the clock to 10.47; the time of Bruce's parents' death. The clock swung open to reveal the steps leading down to the Batcave. "Bruce knows the pit can heal, what he needs to find out is if the waters will have the same results in this reality."

"And what better way to test that than on me?" said Dick with an eerie smile, descending into the darkness of the cave.

"I'm no scientist but I can think of at least fifty better ways to do it!" Jason bellowed after him before following him down into the darkness. Bruce was going to fucking kill him.

Dick reached the bottom three steps before Jason did. "Is that it?" he demanded, hurrying over to Bruce, who looked up from the microscope he was bent over.

Bruce glared at Jason as he came up behind Dick. "You _told_ him?"

"Yes, he told me!" snapped Dick, before Jason could answer. "This concerns me, why shouldn't he tell me?!"

Bruce sighed. "Because I need to run some tests first to make sure the chemical composition isn't altered in this reality."

"Test it on me."

"Not in a million years!" Bruce snapped at once.

Dick exhaled in frustration. "Why not? It's just my arms, it's not like you're actually putting me into a pit."

"We don't know what reaction your skin would have–"

"Reaction?" Dick interrupted. "Bruce, how could anything be worse than _this_?!" Tearing back the sleeves of his sweatshirt, Dick revealed the scars on his arms.

Bruce flinched, regret flashing in his eyes. "Dick, I know they bother you, but if you just give me a few weeks–"

"A few weeks?! Bruce, you don't understand! I don't think either of you do."

"Then help us to understand," said Bruce gently.

Dick's eyes darted between Bruce and Jason, his expression somewhat frantic. "These scars, they're not just a reminder, they're a _connection_ to Joker! I see them and…he's there. In my head. I can't get rid of them, which means I can't get rid of him. He's in here" – Dick gestured to his head – "like, all the time and I need him out!"

Jason felt like he'd been socked in the stomach. He had no idea Dick had been struggling that much.

Bruce looked stricken. "Dick, why didn't you say something sooner?"

Dick mumbled something they couldn't hear, although Jason thought he caught the word 'baby'. His heart sank as he realized why Dick hadn't said anything, and he felt even worse that his and Bruce's overprotectiveness had kept Dick from saying anything in case they treated him even more like a little kid.

"We wouldn't have thought you were a baby," he said quietly, putting a hand on Dick's shoulder. "What Joker did to you…Dick, anyone would have trouble dealing with that. Hell, it took me five years to get to grips with what Joker did to me, and it's only been a few months for you. I'm sorry we were such overprotective buttheads that it made you afraid to talk to us."

Dick gave him a slight grin while Bruce frowned as he looked between the two of them. Jason knew he was piecing two and two together, and he didn't look happy that their efforts to protect Dick had done more harm than good.

Dick turned back to his guardian. "Bruce, _please_," he whispered.

The man's eyes narrowed. Instead of answering Dick, he stalked over to one of the storage cabinets and yanked it open.

Dick exchanged confused looks with Jason. "Bruce?"

He still didn't answer. Reaching into the cabinet, he pulled out a large metal tray with high edges and a scalpel, then whirled and returned to the table.

"Dick, I'm not letting you do this," he told the boy, putting the tray down. "Not without testing it in some way first." Before either Jason or Dick could ask him what he meant, Bruce sliced open the palm of his left hand with the scalpel.

"Bruce!" Jason exclaimed, while Dick gasped.

"If the waters heal this wound without any side effects," Bruce told Dick, "then you can try it." He reached for the steel flask and poured the Lazarus Pit waters from it into the metal tray.

The green fluid emitted a faint smell that triggered some dark memories in Jason's brain and, reflexively, he took several steps back.

"Bruce, you can't–" Dick began, but Bruce held up a finger to silence him.

"How do you expect me to let you do this, Dick, if you don't even want me doing it?"

The boy had no answer to that. He could only watch, frozen, as Bruce plunged his wounded hand into the green liquid. The waters started to hiss and spit as they bubbled around the appendage. Bruce was expressionless as he stared down at the seething, molten liquid. Less than a minute later, the hissing and spitting of the waters started to die down and Bruce removed his hand.

"Bruce, are you okay?" asked Dick anxiously, as his guardian examined the palm of his hand.

The man looked at him, then calmly held his hand out for Dick and Jason to see. The wound was gone.

"It worked?" said Jason, while Dick stared at the hand. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," Bruce answered, his eyes on Dick. "No different."

Dick looked up from the hand. "Did it hurt?"

"It burns a little," said Bruce quietly. "Do you still want to try it?"

Looking nervous but determined, Dick nodded.

Bruce sighed. "Okay, come over here." He pulled the tray closer to the edge of the table as Dick came up beside him.

Despite the fact that the smell from the Lazarus Pit waters was repugnant to him, Jason moved closer as well. His heart began to thump with apprehension and hope. Would this work? What if it didn't? Dick would be crushed.

Bruce was clearly thinking the same thing. He put one hand on Dick's shoulder and leaned down until they were eye to eye. Placing his other hand against Dick's cheek, he spoke gently, "Dick, your scars aren't the same as a fresh wound, this might not work the same way on them."

"I know," Dick whispered. "But I have to try."

Bruce pulled him into a tight hug. Looking over the boy's head, he caught Jason's eye and they exchanged an apprehensive look.

_Please let this work_, Jason thought.

Dick pulled back and looked up at Bruce. With a nod at his guardian, he turned to the table and looked down at the metal tray. Jason saw him take a deep breath then lift his arms and place them carefully into the waters.

Bruce immediately put his hands on Dick's shoulders as the waters began to hiss and bubble, ready to yank the boy away in a second if he needed to.

His nerves overcoming his repulsion for the smell, Jason came up beside Dick. The boy's posture was tense, his teeth gritted as he stared down into the green, effervescent liquid. Jason's stomach seesawed nervously and his hands tightened into fists. Beside him, he could almost hear Bruce's teeth cracking as he clenched his jaw.

It took several minutes before the hissing of the waters finally stopped and the bubbling died away. Slowly, Dick removed his arms and Bruce used the sleeves of his own shirt to dry them before gently taking Dick's wrists and facing his forearms upwards.

The scars were gone.

For a moment, none of them moved or spoke as they stared down at the smooth skin on Dick's arms. Jason felt like he stopped breathing for a moment. It worked? It actually worked? He hadn't dared believe that it actually would.

They snapped out of their stunned silence when Dick pulled his left wrist out of Bruce's grasp and slowly ran the tips of his fingers along his right forearm where Joker had carved his name into the skin. "They're gone," Dick whispered. "It worked."

Bruce responded by once more pulling Dick into a tight hug, his right arm wrapped around the boy, his left hand cradling Dick's head against his chest. This time, when his eyes met Jason's, they were filled with relief.

Jason could feel his own relief trickling over him like a warm shower. Sheer gratitude towards his own mentor filled him and he was seized with the urge to teleport back to the other Gotham and thank the man profusely.

The moment was shattered when Alfred's annoyed voice rang across the cave. "There you are. What on earth are you all doing? Is it really completely beyond your capacity to leave this dreadful cavern for one night and be on time for dinner?"

Bruce released Dick and they all turned towards Alfred. The butler stood at the bottom of the steps, frowning at them all.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," said Bruce, although the large smile on his face made the apology seem less than contrite. "We were in the middle of something and lost track of time."

The butler arched a less than impressed eyebrow. "Dare I hope you were curing world hunger?"

In Alfred's eyes, nothing short of the apocalypse was an excuse for poor timekeeping.

"Alfred, Alfred, look," Dick came towards him, holding out his arms. "They're gone! My scars…they're gone!"

Jason saw the man's eyes widen for a moment. "Gone, young Sir?"

Dick nodded as he stopped in front of Alfred. "Jason's Bruce sent waters from the Lazarus Pit back with him to get rid of them and it worked! It really did!"

"Then we must celebrate, Master Dick," said Alfred, smiling down at the boy. Although he shot a _how could you_ _subject that child to something so dangerous and I have far more to say to you _look at Jason and Bruce when Dick glanced back down at his arms. "Might I suggest starting with Christmas Eve dinner which is ready and awaiting your presence?"

"Great idea, Alfie!" Dick beamed. "Wait! I need to get something first; I'll be there in a few minutes!" And he dashed back up the steps, two at a time.

Alfred glared back at Bruce and Jason. "I shall expect you both at the dinner table in five minutes." Then he turned and stiffly made his way back up the stairs.

Jason grinned at Bruce. "Think that means we won't get any pie?"

Bruce shook his head, smiling. "He'll be fine when I explain everything to him."

They started to climb the steps out of the cave and Bruce sobered slightly. "Jason, what did Dick say to you earlier?"

"Pretty much that he's sick of us babying him and tired of being made to feel like he's helpless." Jason shook his head. "I gotta tell you, Bruce, I felt like a complete asshole. Dick's been feeling like he's losing control of everything in his life, including Robin, and we've only made it worse by smothering him and making it harder to move past the whole thing with Joker."

Bruce shook his head as they exited the cave into his study. "It's hard not to be more concerned in light of what happened with Joker…I nearly lost him."

"But you didn't," Jason reminded him. "And I think that's what you– _we_ need to focus on. Dick needs to feel like we trust him to make his own decisions."

"You're right. It won't be easy though."

Jason sighed. "Who're you telling?" Every instinct he possessed screamed at him to coddle and protect Dick. It wasn't going to be easy to shake that impulse.

"Boy, you two move like little old ladies," Dick's voice complained as they entered the hallway and they looked over to see the boy hovering outside the living room door.

Jason grinned at him. "What's the matter, Kid? Hungry?"

"Starved! But I need to give you something first."

It was then Jason noticed that Dick's hands were behind his back. "Okay, what is it?"

Dick switched his gaze to Bruce who chuckled. "I can take a hint. I'll wait for you both in the dining room. Just don't take too long, we're already in enough trouble with Alfred."

"You mean you and Jason are in trouble with Alfred," Dick corrected with a grin.

Bruce shook his head fondly and ruffled Dick's hair, before continuing down the hallway and entering the dining room.

"Alright, Kid, what have you got?" Jason demanded, amused to see Dick shifting anxiously from one foot to the other.

"It's your Christmas present. Well, sort of. Your real present from me and Bruce is under the tree to be opened tomorrow. This is just something from me and you kind of need to have it tonight." Dick brought his arms out from behind his back and held up a small box wrapped in shiny red paper with a gold bow.

Jason was surprised. "Thanks, Dick."

"It's not much," Dick mumbled as Jason started to open the wrapping paper. "It's just something to, you know…" He shrugged awkwardly.

Jason opened the box to find a Christmas tree decoration; a red ball with his name written on it in gold. The Grayson family tradition to have the name of every member of the family on the Christmas tree.

He looked at Dick, speechless.

"Bruce and Alfred's are blue and silver," Dick rambled quickly. "But I did yours like mine. You know, red? Cause you're Red Hood and you used to be Robin? I had to give it to you now instead of tomorrow so you could have your name on the tree tonight and…you think its totally lame, don't you?"

Jason swallowed and shook his head. "Dick, it's the best present anyone's ever given me."

"Seriously?" Dick's eyes widened. "Dude, that's actually kind of sad."

Jason chuckled before leaning over to hug him. He knew Dick had some idea of what this gift meant, that was why he had given it. But he was still only thirteen and couldn't possibly fully comprehend just how much it meant to Jason. Whatever expensive, high-tech gadget Bruce had under the tree – and Jason knew he did – couldn't compare to this.

"You really like it then?" asked Dick nervously.

"I love it," Jason replied. "And I feel the same way, Kid, you're family too."

Dick's arms around his waist squeezed tighter for a moment before they drew apart and smiled at one another. Jason thought his heart might burst with happiness. Despite the earlier drama, this was hands down his best Christmas ever. Jason had spent years feeling completely alone and now, in the space of just a few hours, all the people who mattered most to him had shown him just how much he meant to them.

"We'd better hang it on the tree and go in for dinner before Alfred gets mad," said Dick.

"Alfred's already mad," Jason pointed out as they entered the living room.

"Not at me and I'd like to keep it that way. I want my piece of pie."

Jason laughed as they stopped beside the Christmas tree. "So, where should I hang it?"

"Where ever you want."

Jason looked at the tree and made his decision quickly. He hung the ball beside the one with Dick's name on it, then turned to the beaming teenager. "Alright, Kiddo," he said, ruffling his hair. "Let's go into dinner."


End file.
